Archive of Our Own

“Mrs. Lodge, this arrived earlier today.” Smithers said, handing Hermione an unassuming manila envelope.

But they knew. They knew that manila-coloured stationary never contained anything good. Never had, never would.

Veronica sat down next to her mother, squeezing her knee, already preparing for the worst: a letter saying that her father had escaped, or had been killed in prison, he had enough contacts and enemies that both scenarios were perfectly feasible.

With a deep breath Hermione opened the envelope, and pulled out the documents.

PETITION FOR DIVORCE.

The bold, red letters stared at them.

Hold on. What?

“Mom?” Veronica said, taking the papers from her hands. They felt so heavy.

Her whole world was crumbling down. 

“He knows.” Her mother said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She was scared. She was terrified.

“I know.”

They turned around at once, staring at the man coming into the room. He looked good, all things considered. Alive, for one. Not on the run, either.

Veronica stood up, leaving the papers on the table, rushing to give him a hug. “Daddy. What…? How?”

“I have a good lawyer.” He simply replied, hugging her back. “You look good, mija.”

She pulled away. “I always do, Daddy. How did you know?”

“I always have eyes and ears on the ground, mi amor. We will talk about you not telling me.. Hermione, do not make this harder than it needs to be, and sign the papers. Don’t make me angry.” He said. “I’ll be staying at the Five Seasons. Veronica, come tomorrow for breakfast.” She nodded.

“Is there any way that you and mom can fix this?” She asked, hands folded in front of her.

“No. Your mother made her choice, I have made mine.” He replied, pressing a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “I expect those papers to be signed by the end of the week.”

And with that, he left.

Hiram woke up with a warm mouth wrapped around his hardening cock, the beard rubbing the inside of his thighs left no doubt as to who it was between his legs.

“Morning.” He moaned, carding his fingers through the dark hair.

“Mh-hm.” FP hummed, giving a hard suck before pulling away with a grin. “I’m sure it is.”

“With that mouth of yours? Always.” Hiram said, pushing his head down, a silent command. FP huffed, but he opened his mouth again and took him back, praising the gods for having no gag-reflex. 

“The pictures were perfect.” He said, rubbing FP’s ear with two fingers. “What happened to the earrings?” FP shrugged. “Put them back on.”

FP pulled away again, immediately wrapping a hand around the now fully hard cock. “You ain't the boss of me, Lodge. If you want me to wear something, you buy it. Something I’ll like.” He added after a beat.

Hiram rolled his eyes, but he didn't say anything, so FP took that as a win and went back to that cock he had missed so fucking much for the last thirty odd years.

He rolled to the side to his front and gave Hiram a look. “Your turn to do something, Hiram. I’m not her, I’m not doing all the work.”

“Don't talk about my ex-wife.” Hiram snapped at him, sitting up. FP didn't add anything else, he simply let his legs fall open, the invitation clear as day.

FP didn't look anything like he did in High School. There was no trace of the prankster, he had been. He was jaded now. Tired. Troubled, deeply so. Addicted to alcohol, and violence.

But still so fucking hot. Toned body, slicked back hair, and got the tattoos scattered all over his body. A jellybean on his chest, the outline of a crown behind his ear, the serpent tattoo on his arm, the army motto on his right tricep, and a Latin one on his left.

Si vis pacem, para bellum. If you want peace, prepare for war.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” FP said, lifting his hips. “C’mon.”

Hiram rolled his eyes, but still straddled his lover’s thighs. He squeezed FP ass, fingers dipping to his hole, brow furrowing at how dry it was. He might be ruthless, he might scam, and kill, but he was a generous lover, and he always took care of the ones he slept with. “Where's the lube?”

“How the fuck should I know? It's your hotel room, is it not?” 

“God, you are impossible.” He bit the man’s shoulder before stretching and fishing the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer.

He settled back on FP’s thighs, and grabbed the man’s hands, making him hold himself open.

Fuck, he was so hot. Broken, and hot, and irresistible.

He poured the liquid straight on FP’s ass, loving the way he moaned, and shivered. Delicious.

He pushed two fingers inside, knowing that he was still stretched enough for that. He started fucking him almost immediately. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” FP moaned, fingers digging into his own flesh. “You better… start fucking me for real soon.”

Hiram didn't reply, he just pressed his fingers deeper, trying to find that spot that would render the King of the Southside Serpent speechless.

“There!” Said man sobbed after a few seconds. “H-Hiram.”

“I know, I know…” He soothed, pushing another finger in. He leaned down to kiss his neck, wondering if trying to mark FP would be worth the hell the man would raise.

Probably not.

Not yet, at least.

“The fuck you know.” FP panted. “Inside me, now. Or I’m turning this around and fucking you.”

“The hell you are, Jones.” He grunted, removing his fingers at once. He wiped his hand clean on the bedsheets to grab the lube again and squirt a generous amount on his hand to apply it to himself. “Ready?”

“Yes, yes. C’mon.” FP grunted.

So bossy, Hiram thought, before pushing inside of him, his eyes fluttering close. God, this was heaven.

He started fucking FP, punching little moans out of the man every time he moved. “Feels good, huh? When's the last time you let anyone fuck you like this? Three decades, give or take?”

FP laughed. Hollow, hard. He pushed up onto his hands and knees. “What, you thought you were the only man I’ve ever been with?” He said.

Hiram's hands tightened around his hips. FP had let other men claim him?

“Who?”

“None of your business, Lodge. You made your choice.” FP replied, pulling away and pushing Hiram to his back before climbing on top of him and grabbing Hiram cock, he sat down on it, but he held himself up so that only the tip was inside of him, driving both of them mad. “Now, you can either fuck me, or keep asking questions. Your choice.”

They stared into each other's eyes, locked in a silent confrontation that lasted until Hiram snapped his hips up, sending FP tumbling forward, their faces pressed against each other.

Hiram grabbed his hips tight, and started fucking into FP with abandon. 

He was going to make sure FP didn't go to anyone else ever again. He had no idea where this was heading, if it was heading anywhere at all, but he had been fantasising of having FP at least one more time for the past three decades.

But he had come back here for a reason, other than fucking the Serpent King, and ge was going tomsee to it.

“Isn’t that your friend from school?” Hiram asked his daughter, nodding towards the kid wearing a beanie. “The one with the strange name.”

Veronica turned around. “Oh, yeah. That's Jughead. He hangs out here at Pops a lot. He doesn't…” She doubted for a second. “He doesn't have a place to live at the moment. I don't know the specifics, but I heard him once tell Archie that things at home are not good. He’s from the Southside.”

“Tragic.” Hiram said, shaking his head. “Are you close?”

“Not really. He's Betty and Archie's friend. I’ve spoken to him a few times alone. He's smart, but a bit… a lot weird. He and Betty are really into mysteries and are trying to solve the murder of Jason Blossom.” She explained. “So, Daddy. Who are you seeing?”

Hiram froze for a second, but it was a second too long. “Cómo dijiste?”

“You’ve been happy, Daddy.” She pointed out. “And I mean, I do want you to be happy, but mom cheated on you and… you haven't done anything other than serving her divorce papers.”

“Aren't you a smart one?” Hiram sighed, fondness bleeding into his voice. His daughter smirked at him. “I am seeing someone. Rekindled an old flame.”

“I see. Well, don't expect me to call her mom.” She said, standing up at once. “Sorry, Daddy, I have Vixens’ practice.”

“Alright. Have fun, mija.” He nodded. “Are you staying with your mother tonight?”

“I am. Betty is coming for a sleepover.” She kissed him on the cheek before going to Jughead, saying hi before leaving.

Hiram looked around the trailer park. How could anyone leave like this? Even at his poorest, when he was still Jaime Luna, they could afford an apartment.

He knocked on the door, and waited.

FP flung it open, a smile on his face when he realised who it was.

“Hiram!” He threw his arms around the man's neck. Sloppily. Too sloppily.

Hiram turned his head to the side, trying to hide his disgust. “You're drunk.”

“And water’s wet.” FP replied, working a leg between Hiram’s. “Watcha doin’ here ‘nyways?”

“I came to pick you up, bring you to the hotel, but you are so drunk you can't even stand straight.” He said, pulling away from the man.

He looked around the trailer. It was trashed. Bottles, cans and boxes of take-out everywhere.

“How can you live like this? I’m amazed you are not living among rats. And where is your son?” He questioned.

“I don't know. He's smart, he’s probably figured something out.” FP said, waving his hand around.

Hiram stared at him: this couldn't be the same kid who had bragged he would never be like his own father.

He grabbed FP by his arm and hauled him towards what he supposed was the bathroom, ignoring the other man’s questions and yelling, and all but threw him inside the shower, turning the cold water on.

“What the fuck are doing!?” FP yelled, trying to get away from the water.

“You are going to sober up.” Hiram said coldly. “You swore back then that you would be better than your father, this is not it. I also don't deal with drunks, so if you want to see me ever again? Stop drinking. Otherwise, go back to whoever you let fuck you.”

He let the showerhead fall on FP, before leaving.

FP removed his soaked clothes, shivering, and tried to find something clean. Or at the very least, semi-clean. Still trembling, he climbed on the bed, wrapping the comforter around himself.

Fuck.

How the hell was he taking parenting advice from Hiram fucking Lodge? And that bastard had dared to turn him away? He always thought he was so much better than the rest of them, as if he hadn't come from humble beginnings.

He tightened the comforter around him, trying to warm up.

He couldn't help but wonder where Jug was. It was starting to get really cold, and Jug was… Where was the last time he saw him?

Fuck.

He really was like his own old man. His had run away, and he had stayed, but that meant nothing, because he still blew up his family. His father had thrown him out, effectively leaving him homeless. And he hadn't thrown Jug out, but the result had been the same, his son felt like being homeless was better than putting up with him.

He didn't even know where his son was, and he was pretending to be better than Forsythe Pendleton I. He shook his head, and threw the comforter away from his body. No. He refused to. He was going to be a father. 

He was a father.

He got dressed and got on his bike, leaving at once. 

“Hey, Pops, have you seen Jug tonight?” He asked the second he arrived at the diner.

It was so cold outside, it would probably snow, and he didn't know where his son was.

“He came by about two hours before, and then left.” He nodded, his face twisted with anxiety. “Last I heard, he was staying at the drive-in, FP.”

“Thank you, thank you.” He said, turning around and leaving at once.

He parked the bike next to the shed, and took a deep breath. He could do this. He knocked on the door. “Jughead? I know you're here, open the door, please.”

He heard rustling on the inside, and a few seconds later, his son opened the door, two blankets wrapped around him.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

FP pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his son’s head. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Juggy. Come home. Please.” He begged. “I’m a fuck up. I know. But I’ll get better. I promise.”

The teen sighed, pulling away. “What's different this time? Why now?”

FP cupped Jughead's face. “Someone reminded me of a promise I made a long time ago, and that I haven't kept. But I will now. No more drinking, I swear on everything sacred to me.”

Jughead stared at his dad: what the hell had happened in the last 72h since he had seen his father, drunk on the couch?

“Come home, please. You can't stay here. You are gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son's arms.

He looked so small, drowned in blankets. 

Jughead knew better than to trust him. To trust that he would get sober, get better and be an actual father. But he still found himself nodding, for some reason.

Hope really was the last thing ever lost.

Jughead stopped typing when he heard Hot Dog woof outside, the thumping of his tail against the wall making it clear that whoever it was, was a friend, so he stayed where he was.

He heard a voice talking and cooing to Hot Dog, but he ignored it in favour of working on his story. Betty had just found that she was going to be an aunt, and that Polly was in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

He startled when a hand pulled his hat off and messed up his hair.

“Hey, kiddo. I’ve brought dinner.” FP said with a smile. “What are you working on? Your novel or an article for school?”

Jughead nodded, staring at his dad. “Uh, novel. You brought food?”

“Yeah, we were running low on some stuff, and they had beef on clearance, so I bought stuff to make steak and mash for dinner.” He replied.

“Where did you get the money for that?” The teen questioned, standing up and walking to the small kitchen to scan the groceries.

FP saw it, but this time, his hackles didn't raise at his son clearly making sure he wasn't sneaking in booze.

“I ran a few errands, and that's all I’m saying.” His dad replied, his tone making it clear that was final. “How was school? How's Betty?”

“Yeah, school is fine… Do you know a place called the Sisters of Quiet Mercy?” He asked, pulling a bag of onions from the big Walmart bag.

“Don't even think about going near that place.” FP said. “Not without me. That place is… Nothing about that place is good.”

“Polly's in there.” He replied. “Betty wants to see her.”

“Fine. We’ll go. I’ve dealt with those demon nuns before. Go walk Hot Dog to the bar, and dinner will be ready.”

Jughead scanned his dad’s face. He looked sober. He smelled sober, too. The first two weeks had been a struggle. He had had to lock him in the bedroom when he got angry, desperate.

He hadn't… He hadn't been afraid for himself, his dad was not a mean drunk, he had never laid a hand on any of them, but seeing his father like that, it broke his heart. He sat by the door, and talked.

Talked about school, the new dramas unfolding between Kevin, Moose and Midge. Talked about the new book he had gotten from the library.

Talked until he heard his dad sit down, on the other side of the door. 

So yeah, he wasn't scared for himself. He was scared for his dad 

He knew the reason they didn't have pills at home was not only because of his mother's love for them. He had heard them once argue about it, and that was how he had come to learn that his dad had tried to kill himself years ago, when he came back from his service in the army, injured and with his father still refusing to let him come home, his mother long gone.

The next morning, when he opened the door, he found the bedroom strangely put together, considering he had heard his dad throw stuff around for hours.

That day he skipped school. He climbed on the bed and curled himself next to his dad, like he did when he was little and there was a storm outside.

Except this time, the storm seemed to have passed. There would still be rainy days, but they would work on those, one step at a time.

It was almost three weeks later that FP went to the hotel. 

This was the longest he had been sober in the past three years, as sad as it sounded. But in those three weeks, Jug had been home every day, safe and warm. He was where he was supposed to be, instead of crashing wherever he could.

And it was not a walk in the park. They fought, they yelled, but he still hadn't had a drop of alcohol. They had thrown all the bottles and cans that first night, and he hadn't bought any, hadn't taken anything at the bar.

“Ah, Mr. Jones. Mr. Lodge is in the pentsuit.” The receptionist said. “The elevator on the far left will take you straight there.”

FP nodded, and did as told, slightly surprised that she knew who he was and why he was there. Obviously, it was Hiram who had told her, but it still begged the question of why, and when.

He hit the button to the top button and as he went up, he still found himself slightly surprised at the fact that not only he had listened to Hiram, but that he was back.

Hiram was waiting for him at the door, wearing a grey T-shirt that was soaked through, and sweats.

Holy fuck.

Right. That's why he came back. Because the fucker was hot as hell.

“You could have called, and I would have made myself presentable.” Hiram sighed.

“What for? Clothes are gonna be on the floor in ten minutes anyways.” FP replied, crowding him against the wall.

“Are they?” Hiram grabbed his face, examining him. “Veronica told me your son is back home with you. Is that true?”

They were pressed thigh to chest, so Hiram could smell that FP was in fact sober.

“Yeah. He's home. I… wanted to thank you.” He said, pressing his lips against the man's throat, inhaling the musky scent, the slight salty taste of sweat on his lips. “I really needed that wake up call.”

Hiram hummed, burying a hand in FP’s hair. “And the drinking?”

“Down the drain. I haven't had any since that day, Hiram.” He pressed hard against the man. “So, how do you want it, hm? Wanna ride me? Should I fuck against the window so you can see your city?” He whispered, grinning when Hiram moaned. “Oh, that still does it for ya, huh? Still want everyone to see you get railed?”

“Fuck.” Hiram moaned.

“Ya know, you were never this easy back then.” FP grinned, pulling back slightly enough to tug that annoying shirt out of the way.

“It's been thirty years, asshole.” Hiram replied, lifting his arms up for FP. He left them up when his lover started to nip at his bicep.

Thirty years, since he had this. Since he had someone take over and just… spoil him. Hermione had been safe. 

Too safe.

Boring.

FP had always kept him on his toes, never backing down from a fight, never surrendering easily.

The first time they had fucked it had been after a game of G&G. They had stayed behind under the guise of cleaning up, but they ended up in the Principal Featherhead’s office, defiling his couch.

It had been their secret until that fateful night, where their lives changed forever, and he chose the mob life with Hermione, and FP joined the Serpents, trashing his promising athlete career.

“Couch.” He grunted, lowering his free arm and pushing FP away. “Fuck me like we did back then.”

“You're bossy, you know that?” FP grinned, moving his hands to Hiram’s hips, pushing his sweatpants down, licking his lips at the happy trail. “Lucky you, I like that.”

“I’m going to own this whole town, FP, I get to be bossy.” He replied.

“Well, then if it's okay with you, boss-man, I’m gonna eat you out until you're begging me to fuck you like you’ve been craving.” FP grinned, pulling Hiram into a kiss.

Hiram wrapped his arms around FP’s neck as they walked towards the couch.

It wasn't long until his pants and underwear were on the floor. “I’m clean.” He mumbled against chapped lips. He had had a feeling earlier in the day, and decided to clean up properly.

FP groaned at that, and bullied his partner on the position he wanted him, perfectly aware that Hiram was letting him do that, he was choosing to surrender to him. Once he had him kneeling down, knees spread open, chest leaning against the back of the sofa.

“You're gonna own the city, hm? Well, then look at it while I make you mine.” FP said, dropping to his knees. He bit Hiram’s ass. “Ready?”

Hiram arched his back when FP went straight to it, not giving him time to reply.

His fingers curled around the top of the couch, gasping for air as FP kept eating him out. His cock was so hard it was starting to hurt. He had forgotten how much FP loved eating him out, he had always managed to render him speechless.

He had forgotten how good it was, too. 

“FP.” He reached out to grab his hair, tugging to pull him away, but the man refused, spreading his cheeks even wider and sucking on his rim.

Fuck.

He might have forgotten how good it was, but he knew it hadn't been that good.

“Hey.” He tugged again. “E-Enough. F-fffffuck.”

This time FP did pull away from him, his hair a mess, falling over his face, no trace of his usual slicked back hairstyle, his jaw covered in spit, his eyes a little bit glassy. “And I will.” He said, his thumb dipping into Hiram’s hole and pushing it inside to the first knuckle.

Hiram's body reacted beautifully to it, his legs fell open even more, a whimper escaping him. 

“Oh, baby.” FP cooed. “You are so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me.” Hiram bit back, but his grinding against FP’s thumb took away from it.

“Again, I will. But you said it, it's been thirty years. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for. Especially if you haven't had this for so long.” He whispered, nipping where thigh met cheek. “Maybe I should see how many times I can make you come, I know you can come at least twice.”

Hiram gave him a look he wasn't able to decipher and then settled back against the couch, his shoulders relaxing.

FP removed his finger, rubbing it against his ring. Hiram moaned again, grinding against it. 

So needy, FP thought before going back to eating him, his eyes sliding shut. Yeah, Hiram was needy, but he was aware enough to know that he was too, it’s not like he was going around eating people out every other day.

He curled a hand around Hiram’s cock, squeezing a bit.

“Oh God.” Hiram rocked his hips into that big, hot hand and back into FP’s face.

Fuck.

FP encouraged him to keep going with a hand wrapped around his hip, pushing and pulling until he was moving, undoing himself.

He came minutes later with a sob.

FP pulled away at that, panting hard. “Fuck, Hiram.” He gasped, moving to stand up and collapse next to his lover. Hiram was panting just as hard, small tremors going through his body. “Hey. You okay?”

“Shut up.” Was the breathy reply he got in response.

“I just made you come, you can be nicer.” He groused, pulling the man into his arms, holding him close. 

Hiram glared at him before sagging against him, resting on his chest. His legs felt so weak.

“You’ve improved.” He said when his heart rate came down again and he could breathe without gasping.

FP rolled his eyes at him. “Thanks. You can thank all those other people you wanted to murder last time. Now, how do you want it? Wanna ride me?”

They collapsed in bed after a shower, FP face first, his eyes closing at the warm, soft bed. He blinked his eyes open when Hiram buried his hand in his hair.

He seemed to like doing that a lot.

FP moved turned to his side, pulling the other man closer, setting an arm across his hips. Hiram stiffened for a few seconds, before he relaxed again, working a leg between FP’s.

“So. What brought you back to town?” He asked, finger thrumming against Hiram’s back. “You always wanted to get out of here, and as good of a lay as I am, I really don't think you came back for that.”

Hiram rolled his eyes at him. “Do you know what palladium is?”

“The mineral stuff?”

“Not a mineral, a metal.” Hiram corrected. “We moved to Riverdale because a man told my dad there is palladium here. It’s a rare material.”

“So it sells high.” 

“Exactly. I want to extract it.”

FP hummed, and nodded. He never understood Hiram’s obsession on being filthy rich. He could understand having money, not having to decide between food and bills, but at one point, there should be enough in the bank, right?

But then again, what was it to him what Hiram did, or did not do with his money?

FP was on the couch, a stack of books next to him. It had been so long, that he had forgotten he already had a library card.

He didn't know much about palladium, other than Hiram wanted it, Riverdale had it, and Hiram would stop at nothing to get it if he knew the man at all.

Which he did. The whole damn country did.

What he did know, however, was that there were mines in the Blossom state and that they used to mine rare materials from there, his own grandfather was a miner there.

Hiram didn't seem to know that.

He wondered if telling him would help him steer away from the Southside, or would just seal Riverdale’s fate.

“Hey dad.” Jughead said, stepping inside the trailer. He blinked at the sight in front him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his dad with a book in hand. “What are you reading about?”

“Palladium.” He said, patting the free space next to him. “Look, this is your great-grandfather. He was a miner at the Blossom state.”

“I didn't know there were mines in Riverdale.” Jughead said.

“Yeah. They started as carbon mines, but they found palladium, and they quickly switched to that, until the mine collapsed.” He explained.

“I see.” The teen nodded. “Why the interest?”

“Someone said something about it.” His dad replied. 

“Is that the same person who reminded you of that promise you made?” Jughead asked carefully. He felt like his heart was beating in his throat.

FP watched his son. That boy was far too smart, and too noisy, for a town like Riverdale.

“He is.” He admitted, his voice guarded.

“Does he… make you happy?”

FP hummed, thinking about it. Did Hiram make him happy? He wasn't sure he knew what happiness felt like anymore.

“He doesn't make me unhappy.” He ended up saying. It was the best answer he could give at the moment.

Jughead sat down next to Veronica. She blinked at him, putting her book down. “Betty's in…”

“I was looking for you.” Jughead interrupted her. She arched an eyebrow, because she could count in one hand the amount of time her and Jughead had spent time together, one on one. “I’m about 90% your dad and my dad are sleeping together.”

 She snapped her book close, mouth hanging open, because that was not where she thought the conversation was going. “What!? Jughead, what are you talking about?”

“So you know how I told you he has stopped drinking.” She nodded. “Okay. He's never been able to really stick to it for more than a couple of weeks, and it's already been two months. Anyways, there's been plenty of nights where he hasn't been sleeping at home, but he wasn't at the bar either. So I followed him around. And he's been going to the Five Seasons.”

“That would definitely explain why he has been in such a good mood lately.” Veronica mused. “I did think he was seeing someone, but honestly, the option that it was a man, never even crossed my mind.”

“And you think I thought about it?” Jughead sighed, shaking his head. “Should we be concerned?”

Veronica grinned. “Probably. Or maybe they just cancel each other out.”

“Right now, so long as my dad doesn't drink, they can do whatever they want.” Jughead said. 

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones II, you are sentenced to twenty years without parole.” The judge said.

At the same time Jughead's hand flew to his dad's shoulders, squeezing tightly, Hiram's hands curled into tight fists: he still didn't understand why FP had refused his help to get out of help.

He took a deep breath. He’d find a way to get him out, because he was not about to let his partner rot away in jail.

He watched Veronica and her friends go to FP’s kid, all offering their support. He supposed he’d have to keep an eye on the boy, he had a penchant for trouble.

Like father, like son.

He watched how they took FP away, so he slid to the back, where he knew FP was about to be loaded into the prison bus.

He gave the guard a couple of bills, and waited. He had already paid the security to get a few minutes with his… with whatever he and FP were.

“Leave us alone. You can stand there on the side.” He said the second he saw ghe appear.

The guards nodded, and after making sure FP was cuffed, hands and feet, they stayed on the corner.

“What are you doing here?” FP asked him.

“Well, had you let me help, I wouldn't have had to come here.” Hiram replied. “Did you do it?”

“It doesn't matter if I did it, or not. What matters is that Jug is safe.” FP replied with a shrug. “I guess being a dad doesn't suit me all that much, huh? Somehow, I always fail. Drunk, sober… I’m still like my old man. Just make sure he doesn't join a gang, will you?”

Hiram frowned. There was so much to unpack there, and they had no time at the time.

“I am making no such promise, FP. Your son is smart, and I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.” He said. “I’ll see you soon.”

FP blinked at him. “What?”

“I’ll see you soon. Try and stay out of trouble.” He said, turning around.

FP had been there for two weeks, having reunited with the incarcerated serpents. “Jones! You’ve got someone here to see you!” Rick, one of the guards deep in Hiram’s pockets, yelled.

He frowned, but stood up. It better not be Jug, his boy should be in school.

He followed the guard until they arrived at a separate wing. The wing that he knew for a fact held several units for conjugal visitation. Was Gladys back? She better not have gotten her filthy paws on Jughead.

The guard opened the door to the small hall that led into the room, and turned around to let him step inside. “You have 24h.” And with that, he closed the door behind him.

FP blinked and entered into the room, an eyebrow raising when he saw that, thankfully, it was not Gladys who had come here.

Hiram was waiting for him, already in bed, stroking his cock. “Hey there.”

FP thanked every single deity he knew, and rushed towards the man, not even bothering to remove the jumpsuit. He had tied the sleeves around his waist, and he could feel Hiram undressing him.

“You are a sight for sore eyes.” He said, crawling towards him and getting comfortable between his legs. He batted Hiram’s hand away and swallowed him whole at once, relaxing at the feeling of that cock in his mouth once again. He moaned, his eyes sliding shut, he could feel the stress bleed out of him. 

Hiram buried a hand on his hair, not tugging, not pushing, just resting there, letting FP settle down.

After a few seconds he started to bob his head up and down, smirking when his partner started moaning.

God, he had missed those sounds.

Hiram watched FP blow him with the abandon of a man drinking water after days of having none.

“Dios, you look gorgeous like that.” He praised, petting him on the head. 

Dark eyes looked up at him, before FP pulled away, sucking on the head, pulling yet another moan out of Hiram, before he moved to kiss him.

Hiram kept his hand on his head the whole time, gently petting it until FP pulled away and rested his forehead on his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Well, you see, my partner stupidly confessed to a crime he didn't commit, so now I have to come here to see him.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on his temple. “You do agree with me that it's idiotic, right?”

“Partner?”

Hiram arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes? I’m a monogamous person, Forsythe. I’m aware we never discussed this, but in my eyes, you are my partner. We’ve had this arrangement for three months now, I believe that would make us boyfriends, but that is a rather juvenile word, so partner it is.” He said, biting his shoulder. “If you agree, that is. Otherwise, I guess this will be our last time together.”

FP pulled away, ignoring both the use of his name and their hard cocks, because partners? Hiram wanted them to be… partners?

“I’m not leaving the Serpents. Not now, not ever. I’m not gonna trade leather for a suit. I’m gonna work when I get out here, I’ll be a foreman, I’m not… I’m not like you, Hiram. I’m not one for the hoity-toity life.”

“Did I say you had to be? Had I wanted someone like that, I wouldn't have come back to you.” He said. “All I ask is that you trust me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what the hell is going on.”

FP hummed, pulling away. “Does that go both ways? Are you gonna tell me what the deal with palladium is? Or why you bought the drive-in? Or even better yet, what do you and the Blossoms have going on? Because it is not about the mines, which is why you’ve been trying to get your hands on Southside land.”

Hiram stared at him, his heart doing a weird thing, because how the hell did FP know that? Could he trust someone who knew all of his plans? Hermione had not been worthy, or skilled enough.

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve got money, I’ve got the manpower.” FP shrugged. “We are everywhere, Hiram, you can't hide from us. That being said, if you are all in, I’m all in.”

Hiram stared at the man in front of him. He knew this would probably blow on his face one way or another, but this was too good to pass up. FP was probably the one that should have been at his side this whole time, but fate had decided against it. 

Yet now, they were there. Together, so different yet deep down, still the same. Two boys that wanted to prove the world around them that they could make it.

He pulled him into a kiss.

“Yeah. I am.” He whispered against his lips. “My condition still stands, however: no getting drunk.”

“And I’ve kept it until now, haven't I? Have a little faith, will ya?” FP replied. “But if we are partners, for real, you gotta give me something too, cupcake. Leave the Southside alone, no drugs, no casinos, no palladium. That's my territory. Northside? Do whatever you want, but leave us alone.”

Hiram swallowed at that. The Southside was an integral part of his plans, but was it all worth losing what he had with FP?

He had no clue. Maybe he could juggle both things. Maybe he could convince FP to see his vision.

“What do you know about palladium?” He asked, pulling him back into a kiss. “You seem to know more than you said you did.”

“No, I did my research after talking to you.” FP corrected. “And what I know is that the Blossoms are playing you. There's barely any palladium in the Southside. They have the main mine. Different one from the one your dad worked in. It collapsed decades ago, which is why there has been no extraction, and why they had to start running hard drugs in their barrels. Their fortune was never made from tree sap.”

Hiram stared at him: gorgeous, resourceful and smart, even if FP himself didn't think so.

“You’re fucking amazing. Now, let's get back to you sucking me off. I missed your mouth.”

FP smirked at him, pulling his shirt off. Hiram subconsciously licked his lips: hot damn. He clearly had been hitting the gym. 

He was going to make sure FP left that room so satisfied, that he didn't even think of looking at anyone else, or get in trouble.

Hiram pulled FP close, curling an arm around his waist, tucking the taller man under his chin. “How are you really doing?” He asked, fingers tracing the Serpent tattoo on his arm.

“It really fucking sucks, but being me means no one messes with me.” He replied, breathing in the smell of sex, sweat, and Hiram’s aftershave.

“Good. Now, are you going to tell me why you confessed?” He asked.

They both knew it wasn't really a question.

“Clifford said he'd hurt Jug if I didn't take the fall for him.” He finally, finally, confessed.

He felt like he could cry from the sheer relief of telling someone. The fact that it was someone who seemed to care about him, just made him feel like he was a puppet, and someone had cut all the strings, and he could finally relax, and hope.

“Clifford? Blossom!?” Hiram demanded, pushing FP to his back and hovering on top of him. “Hold on. Are you telling me that he killed his own son?”

FP nodded, closing his eyes. And then he spilled everything. Hiram listened, never saying anything, simply holding his man until he fell silent.

“Can I take care of it, now?” He finally asked. “This is not your place, Forsythe… You belong outside these walls. With me. With your son. Who, by the way, knows about us.”

He pulled away at once, eyes huge. “What do you mean he knows?”

“Exactly that. My daughter and him cornered me two days ago to tell me that they knew, they approved, and that I better come see you.” He said, kissing his neck. “You might not want him to be a serpent, but he certainly has the makings of one.”

“No. He can't join in, Hiram. He’s, he’s smart. He needs to go to college.” He said, sitting up.

“Okay. Is there a rule that says you can't be a serpent and go to college?” Hiram asked, sitting up as well. “Just let him live his life, and if he falls, well, you’ll be there to pick him up.” He said, pressing a kiss on his mouth. “I’ve learnt this with Veronica, much as I want her to follow the path I’ve laid down for her? She is gonna do what she wants, which for now, is to not agree with me much.”

FP sighed, tilting his head back. “I guess you are not wrong. Jug has never been one to listen to his mother or I much.”

“Exactly. So now, stop worrying so much, and let's get back to fucking our brains out.”

The Serpent king grinned at that, flipping Hiram around. “I can definitely get behind that idea.” He pulled his lover's legs open. “God, you are gorgeous. Thank you for letting me have you like this.” He said before diving in with gusto, grinning when Hiram's whole body shook.

Yeah, he liked to eat ass, but Hiram loved to have his eaten. Perhaps they were a match made in heaven.

Hiram watched him get dressed, his stomach twisting at the idea of having to leave FP there. And it was made all the more unsettling because had FP trusted him, he would have gotten Clifford in jail.

“Think any harder, and your ears will start smoking.” FP called out as he tied the sleeves around his waist again.

Hiram glared at him, but he stood up as well, walking towards him. He pushed the taller man against the wall, and kissed him, because this kiss needed to last him another two weeks.

“Do you trust me to give Clifford what's coming for him?” He asked.

“You know I do. However, make sure he doesn't off himself. I want him here, with us. I want him to suffer both for his own son, and for threatening mine.” FP said, grabbing Hiram's hair. “And once he’s suffered enough, you can get me out. How's that work?”

“You just want to keep having prison sex.” Hiran said, grinding against him.

FP laughed, tipping his head backwards. “If I get to have you all horny and needy for me, hell yeah I want it.”

“I was needy? You nearly fell on my cock and choked on it in your haste to get your mouth on me.” Hiram grinned.

They both sighed when one of the guards pounded on the door. 

Just two more weeks.

“Mija, I need your help. Well, Forsythe does.” He said the following night when they were having dinner.

“Who?” Veronica questioned, frowning.

“FP. Forsythe Pendleton, it's their family name. I saw him yesterday, he said he has proof that he’s innocent.”

Veronica nodded, smirking internally: Jughead was a Junior? Oh, this was perfect.

“That's great! Does Jug know? What do you need help with?” She asked, sitting down next to him.

“I don't believe he does. As for what I need help with, FP mentioned a USB pendrive inside Jason’s jacket.” He told her. “Could you and your friends locate it for me?”

“Of course, Daddy.” She said happily. “Oh, and for your information, I am no longer going out with Archibald.” Hiram stayed silent, simply arching an eyebrow. “He cheated on me with Betty, so Jughead and I will find out about this jacket on our own. The two cheating bastards can keep going on their crusade against the Black Hood, Jughead and I will see that his father gets freed.” 

“Excuse me, excuse me, he cheated on you?” Hiram said, standing up.

“Yes, Daddy dearest. Keep up. I’m over it. No one cheats on me. And I will certainly not beg for his affection.” She replied, putting her hair behind her ear. “I do, however, want you to stop bankrolling this whole Red Circle thing. If I’m not good enough for him, neither is our money.”

“Of course, mija. Is that all you want me to do?” He asked, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“For now, yes.” She nodded, kissing him back on the cheek. “Bye, Daddyo. I’ll come with Jug after school.”

When she arrived at the school, she found Jughead and Archie arguing by the door, Betty standing on the side, looking oh so innocent, trying to calm everyone down, when everything was her fault.

Archie was just as guilty, of course. But Dios los cría…

She arched an eyebrow at the leather jacket Jug was now proudly sporting.

It suited him. His dad would have a heart attack, but it suited him.

“Jughead! I was looking for you!” She said, linking their arms. She ignored the three wild looks she got, as if she were crazy. “My dad needs our help with something, to help your dad.”

Jughead looked at her, before nodding. “Yeah, of course. Should I come back and talk to your dad, or do I have everything?”

“Wait, wait.” Archie said, clearly still convinced that this conversation had anything to do with him. “Since when are you two friends? And why are you helping her father?”

“I am not. He’s helping my father, so I’m helping him.” He snarled. “And besides what I do, or what I don't do? None of your business. Lose my number, both of you.” He then turned to Veronica, and with a move designed to piss those two lying, cheating snakes, he pressed a kiss on Veronica's cheek. “I gotta bounce or I’ll be late, I’ll pick you up after school.”

Veronica grinned, and nodded, quickly catching on. “Be safe. Daddy Jones is already gonna flip when he sees you with that jacket, no need for you to be missing an arm.”

A few minutes later, she chuckled when she got a text: Please, don't call my dad that ever again.

Hiram kissed FP when the man entered the room. He looked good. He had put on some more muscle weight, and his beard looked well kept. “I’ve got news for you. Bad or good first?”

“Bad? Why is there bad news at all?” FP asked, flopping down on the bed, kicking his shoes in the process. “Come here.”

Hiram rolled his eyes, because he was not able to resist a siren’s call like that, not after two weeks of not being able to set his hands on FP.

“Because unfortunately, this town is doomed, until we can take care of it.” He replied, taking his own shoes off, and laying down next to his partner, who despite being taller, curled around him to rest his head on his shoulder, a bone-deep sigh leaving him.

He would question him later on it.

“Okay, give me the bad news first.” FP said, deft fingers working on freeing Hiram’s cock.

“Well, bad news is your son and the Cooper girl are no longer going out. She cheated on him with Archie. Suffice to say, Veronica is not seeing Archie either.” He grabbed FP’s hands before delivering the rest of the bad news: he did not want anything near his manhood when he told him. “Worse news is that your son, despite everything, joined the Serpents.”

Dark eyes focused on him, expression darkening. “He what?” He hissed sitting up. “Fuck, Hiram!”

“Hey, calm down. He's still going to school. And he's doing a good job, from what I know. He's keeping everyone in line, both the kids and the adults. He's doing just fine, FP.” He said, rubbing his wrist. “And again, he's gotta carve his own path,FP. You just gotta make sure he doesn't make the same mistakes you made.”

“Have you met Jughead? He's…”

“Smart, for one. Smarter than most of his peers.” Hiram interrupted him. “Which brings me to the good news of it all: we’ve got the pendrive, and Blossom will be entering jail in two days. I pulled some strings and he’ll be in your wing.”

FP stared at him, because despite the Jughead of it all, that was fucking amazing news. 

He was going to make that ginger bastard pay for everything.

So FP did the only thing he could do about it: he kissed Hiram, climbing onto his lap. He was gonna give the man the ride of his life.

FP whimpered when Hiram pushed his pinky inside him, spreading him open even more. He was laying on the bed, his cock hard and leaking against the pillow Hiram had put under him, when he fucked himself on the fingers inside of him, his partner's equally hard dick brushing his thigh.

Hiram bit his neck, sucking a mark on it, just in case someone got any ideas.

“S-seriooouhhsly?” The man tried to say, a moan slipping past when Hiram started to move away.

“You’re mine.” Hiram hissed, his hand speeding up, wanting to pull as many sounds as possible out of his partner. “Only I get to have you like this now.”

FP tried to say something back, to keep their usual banter going, but he was feeling stuffed full, spread open. There was drool running down his chin, his cock was so hard it was bordering on painful.

The shorter man smirked at that, because rendering FP speechless was a feat in and of itself, but having him so desperate, so needy, that was a first.

He pulled him up by his shoulder enough to be able to kiss him. It ended up more panting against each other's mouth, because FP seemed too gone to even be able to kiss back properly.

He slid his free hand from the man’s back to his cock, wrapping it around, his thumb rubbing the slit. FP’s body jackknifed at the mere touch, and he came undone, moaning loudly as he did so, spurts of come splashing both of them on their stomachs, some of it running down Hiram’s hand.

He kept stroking, his hand still buried in him, as FP’s body sagged against the bed, twitching at the overstimulation.

But he never said stop, so Hiram didn't.

“That good, hm?” Hiram teased, licking his neck.

“F-fuck, Hiram. So good.” FP slurred, eyes closing.

“Of course it's good. I’m here.” He replied with a smirk. FP rolled his eyes at him. “Still want me to fuck you?”

“You think… I’m gonna let you leave without being stuffed full? It's been two weeks, Jaime.” He said, grabbing the man’s black hair in his fist and pulling him into a kiss.

Hiram kissed him back, and if he hadn't realised the use of his birth name, or was ignoring it, FP didn't know, and in all honesty, he didn't care. His only preoccupation at the moment was getting that cock inside himself.

He wrapped his hand around Hiram’s wrist and pulled his hand out, his legs shaking at the feel, his hole clenching at the empty feeling.

“Get in me already, Hiram.” He said, moving to stand on his knees, shuffling until he was on his lap.

“Dios, you are gagging for it today.” He replied, grabbing the lube and smearing a good amount on his cock, before guiding FP down.

They moaned at the same time when he started to slide in. Once fully seated, FP rested his forehead on Hiram’s shoulder.

“Feel so good.” He whispered, circling his hips. “Hm… Missed this. Missed your cock.”

Hiram made a sound, his eyes scrunched shut: god, he was going to come embarrassingly fast if FP kept talking.

“You feel so good, you know that? Like you were made just for me. Only I can get you to beg to be fucked, so only you get to see me like this.” FP said, speeding up. “So you wanna say I’m yours. Alright by me, but let’s make something very clear, Hiram, you are mine. Say it.”

Hiram looked at him: he was sweaty, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and puffy from the kissing and biting. And more importantly, sober.

FP was his, so would being FP’s, for as long as they lasted, be so bad? 

“Fuck. Yeah. I-I’m yours.” He moaned, throwing his head back when FP braced himself on the headboard, and started fucking himself in earnest.

“Yeah, you are. Because no one can give it to you like I do. No one knows how much you love being eaten out. How much, hmm, you love to have me choking on your cock. How well you give it up for me when I fuck you-oh. How much you love being fucked somewhere people can see us.” FP said, his voice breaking in little moans.

Hiram‘s hands tightened around FP’s hips, helping him bounce on his cock. “Or how you get all needy with me.” He said. “Did you ever let the others see you like this? Drooling, a hand nearly stuffed inside of you, bouncing on their cock?” He wrapped his hand around FP’s half-hard cock, stroking it just a pace off from the rhythm his lover had been keeping to throw him out a bit.

“J-just fooor you.” FP moaned. “I was always in charge with them. I don't trust them like I trust you.”

Hiram’s eyes widened: other than his daughters, he had never had anyone trust him. Not even Hermione. Especially not Hermione. He was well aware that he was not trustworthy, and he knew that FP knew that, but to know that his partner trusted him enough to let go like this, it was enough.

For the moment, it was enough.

He pushed FP until he had the man sprawled under him. He grabbed one of his legs, throwing it over his shoulder, before sinking down in him again, pulling twin moans out of both of them.

It was long until they came undone in between kissing and panting. Hiram sat on his heels, softening cock still inside of FP.

“Fuck, you look gorgeous.” He said, running his knuckles up and down FP’s stupidly long legs.

“Mh-hm. Flattery will get you everywhere. Except fucking me again. I’m done for the day.” He yawned. “But maybe after a nap, I can eat you out, and then make you come with my fingers.”

Hiram pulled out of him, hissing at the drag on his cock, before laying down next to him. “I’ll hold you to that.” He threw an arm over his stomach, ignoring the stickiness: sleep was far more compelling than a shower.

Even if seeing FP in the shower was a vision.

“So, what about the palladium?” FP asked after they had showered and eaten something. They were cuddling on the couch.

It felt strangely domestic, given the setting.

“Well, now that Clifford is waiting for his trial, the FBI has taken all of his assets and frozen all the accounts. Penelope is also facing charges for drug possession, intent to distribute, distribution and a bunch of other things.” He replied, fingers tracing the tattoo on FP’s arms. “Thornhill will be up for grabs next month, and I intend to buy it and re-open the mines.”

“And the Southside?” FP pressed.

“Yours. As long as you keep your promise.” He said, but the truth was he had been losing interest on the Southside, his focus was now Thornhill and bringing down the Blossoms.

“I clearly have.” FP snapped, his voice tight.

“Right, right. I’m sorry.” He apologised. “I know you are sober, and how hard it was at the beginning. Do forgive me.”

The other man stared at him, looking for something disingenuous, but he ended up nodding. “So, if palladium is your… money making project, what happens when you accomplish that?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, when you get all the palladium, when you are so filthy rich that you won't be able to spend all your money in this lifetime, what's next? Leave Riverdale again on the hunt for the next vein? Retire?”

Hiram licked his lower lip, wondering if this was about to sound as dumb and juvenile as he thought it did. “Rum. I always… I always wanted to open a rum company. My father and I, we always said we would open one.”

FP’s eyes widened because that was not the answer he had been expecting. At all. Hiram loved his father, more than anything, and his death was what shaped Jaime Luna into Hiram Lodge. 

And FP couldn't relate. At all. His mom ran out on them when he was 13, his father kicked him out at eighteen, the very same night. He didn't even know if they were alive, and he didn't care.

“That sounds nice, Hiram.” He said softly, squeezing his hand.

It was a week later that FP received what felt like an early Christmas present.

“Hey, boss. Blossom just got here.” Grizzly said, grinning. “He looks like he's about to shit himself.”

FP smiled, standing up from the bench press. “Alright then, let's go see him. But just to make something very clear… He’s mine.”

Everyone nodded at him.

“Well, well, well… Look who it is.” He drawled, leaning against the cell’s wall. “How are you liking it here? Got comfy yet?”

NBlossom scoffed at him. “Do you think you scare me? I’ve got friends in places so high, you don't even know they exist, Serpent.”

“Perhaps. But I’ve got friends in places so low, you wouldn't even see them coming.” FP grinned, walking inside the cell, cornering the man against the wall. “This is my court, and just to make it clear… You're not walking out of here. You might not even make it to the end of the week, we’ll see how I feel. And don't bother calling Hiram… He won't help you.” Clifford’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know everything about you and your drug empire… Failing drug empire, since he dropped you. So now ask yourself, who could have told him about you steering him away from your mines? Or given him the tip-off to land you here with me?” He patted the man on the cheek before leaving, enjoying the way he paled even further. “Oh, and your bunkie? Grizzly.” He pointed at the large man. “I think you can figure out why we call him that. Alright, let's roll.”

“I feel like he's gonna end up huddled in a corner hugging a pillow all night long.” Someone said, making FP laugh.

Oh, that was a vision. The wannabe tough druglord hiding away in a corner.

“Or biting it.” Someone else said.

FP turned around at once, dark eyes ablaze. They all froze. “What was that?”

The one who spoke, Pepperhot, rubbed his arm. “Nothing. Sorry, boss. It won't happen again.”

“Let's make sure it doesn't.” FP said coldly, before walking outside.

Alone.

Clifford woke up with a start when a loud bell rang and a shadow moved on the fall, unfurling, until two massive legs swung from the bed on top of him, and Grizzly jumped on the floor.

When the doors opened, Grizzly stepped outside, not sparing him a glance. 

Clifford stayed where he was, whatever was going on, he was not about to be involved in it. 

It probably just involved the commoners.

He fixed his wig, and waited until someone came to collect him for breakfast.

“Blossom!” A guard yelled, grabbing him by the front of his orange uniform and dragging him out of the bed and outside to the hall to join the line up. “Are you deaf? Did you not hear the roll call bell?”

“I’m not like them! I shouldn't even be here.” He protested.

“We’ve all seen the video of you killing your own son, Blossom. You do belong here with all the rest of these rats.” The guard sneered.

“I have money.” He tried.

Grizzly laughed at that. “You don't, and everyone knows that. Face it, you’re the bottom of the barrel here.”

FP was taking great delight in torturing Blossom without really doing anything. All he had to do was stare him down, move a little too fast, a little too sharply, and watch the man wince and shrink away.

“So, Blossom. How's your week going? Rest much?” He said, sitting on the table where the man was sitting. “Have you heard the news yet? Your mother has been sentenced to house arrest for a bunch of crimes, your daughter is living with your cousin Bedford in Centerville and your wife has been sentenced to fifteen years without parole. And the cherry on top? Hiram bought your whole state. And his daughter bought Blossom Maple Farms. So you own nothing. All that lineage you are so proud of, poof. Gone.”

“You're lying.” Clifford hissed.

“I really am not. You can check the papers. And all of this because you decided to threaten my son.” He sighed, shaking his head, condescending.

“You're still locked up in here with me.” The man sneered.

“No. Like you, maybe. With you? Not even close.” FP said, stretching and standing up. “Look around, Blossom. I run this place. In here, I’m on top, and you… you are at the bottom of the barrel. One word, one look and I could have you killed.”

“Then why am I still alive, huh? Are you really as powerful as you say you are, or has all that alcohol you poisoned yourself with turned your brain into mush?” Clifford said, his voice dreeping with disdain.

FP’s eyes flashed with anger and he grabbed the front of Clifford's jumpsuit, pulling him up. They were almost the same height, but the biggest difference between them was that, while leaner, FP worked out, he was stronger than Clifford, who didn't look like he had lifted a dumbbell in his life.

“Watch it, slime worm. As I said, you're alive because I was you alive.” FP hissed before shoving him against the table.

Clifford stumbled, and his eyes darkened. “You think your son is safe? Hiram is not my only contact. You know I have the Ghoulies on my side. One word, and he’s dead. So is little miss Lodge.”

FP punched him on the jaw before he was aware that he had done it.

They had a guard pulling them apart in second, hauling FP away. He gave his men a look: that bitch was going to die, and maybe he would not be the one to do it, and that was heartbreaking, but Jug would be safe.

And so would Veronica, because if anything happened to her, Hiram would go scorched earth on Riverdale.

Veronica waited outside Southside High. She was aware that everyone was watching her, including a certain pair of lying liars, but she stayed where she was, perched on Jughead's bike.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Jughead asked her when he made it to her.

“Came to give you some good news.” She smiled. “Clifford Blossom was found dead in his cell, hanging from the bars of his door, hands and feet tied together. Also, Cooper and Andrews are here watching us.”

Jughead grinned, stepping in between her legs. “Is there any proof against my dad?”

“None. He was in solitary at the time. He got into a fight with Clifford and he got locked up. Daddy was pissed about it.” She replied. “According to Daddy, someone in there for life decided to kill him after Blossom looked at him funny.”

“Riiiiight.” Jughead drawled. “I guess my dad cashed in a favour or two.”

“Mayhaps. How do you feel about a milkshake and burger at Pop’s.” She asked.

“Sounds perfect. I also need to talk with your dad. There's something fishy going on here.” He replied.

“Come over for dinner then.” She replied.

Hiram looked up when Veronica stepped inside, Jughead behind her. He had to admit that this one was a much better fit for his daughter. At the very least, as a friend. He matched her witty humour and sharp tongue a lot better than Andrews ever did.

Veronica and him, they were not made for cautious, tender-hearted people. Hermione had toughened up as years went on, but she was not cut out of this life, not really.

Not like FP was. 

Not like Jughead was.

He couldn't help but wonder what the future of the Southside Serpents was going to look like once he got Forsythe out of jail. To be honest, he hadn't been completely sure that the kid had it in him to fill in his father's shoes, but he was doing alright, keeping everyone in check, gaining territory on the Ghoulies.

Sure, he was bankrolling the operation, but he was only providing them with funds, and it was barely anything, Jughead and Topaz were both strategists, and Fangs and SweetPea were the brawn of the operation.

It had also helped that most of the elders had backed the young Jones.

“Daddy, Jug wants to talk to you about something going on in Southside High.” Veronica said, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Of course.” He nodded, closing his laptop, waving at the chair next to him.

“Someone is running drugs from the school.” Jughead told him. “I know the deal you and my dad have, and I know for a fact that he’s still sober.”

“I know that. And as I promised your dad, I stopped having anything to do with any drugs being pumped into the Southside.” Hiram replied, ignoring the sting at the insinuation that he was going behind FP’s back.

“Well, someone is flooding the school with jingle-jangle.” He replied. “Could it be your old contact?”

Hiram thrummed his fingers on the table. “It might be possible, if he has found someone else to bank the operation. I assume he is using the Ghoulies again?” The teen nodded.

“Are they gaining power?” Veronica asked, joining them.

“Not much, but yes. It might grow with time, so I would rather nip it at the base.” Jughead replied.

“That would make sense. Let me take of it.” He told the boy. “You keep working on driving the Ghoulies out of town, I’ll make sure the drugs stay out of the Southside as much as possible.”

Veronica smiled at her dad. So it turned out, that they didn't have to worry about their dad's relationship: they didn't cancel each other out, in a weird way, they supported each other, but also kept each other in check: Mr. Jones stayed focused on keeping sober and getting his revenge on the Blossoms, and her dad had diverted his focus back to palladium, instead of being a drug lord.

It was like a dark romance book, but strangely healthy. Much healthier than her and Archie had been, that was for sure.

“Now that I have you both here, I do have an idea that I would want to run by you both, but especially you, mija, as the owner of the maple farm.”

“I’m listening.” She nodded, shrugging when Jughead sent her a look.

“I was talking with Forsythe the last time we were…” He trailed off when they both recoiled in disgust. “Anyways, he questioned what I would do after I got the palladium mines open and running again and I was thinking that there is no maple rum in the market yet. Or a powerful brand for maple-distilled spirits. I would like a collaboration with both of you: your farms, and your manpower.” He told them.

“What do you mean, manpower?” Jughead questioned.

“Distilleries are hard work, it’s hard labour. I know some of your Serpents have been talking about coming to work in the mines, but your father would never forgive himself, or me, if they died in there if something ever happened. So I was thinking, if they did want to work, they could work at the distillery, or as truckers, if they’d so prefer. That would…”

“Also give us an opportunity to extend beyond Riverdale, and have an exclusive deal with you.” Jughead finished. “I’ll talk it over with Toni, Pea and Fangs, and with my dad. Unless you want to run it through him first.”

“I’ll let you handle it. It is a Serpent matter after all.” Hiram replied. 

Jughead nodded, and let the conversation flow to less heavy topics.

FP stared at his bloody hand, the wound on his stomach bleeding profusely. 

Great.

The whole point of being in solitary was being alone. Not have a fucking homophobic guard jump him and stab him because Blossom gave him a hundred bucks.

What a moment to die.

His son was in a gang, his ex-wife and daughter somewhere in Toledo doing god knows what, alone in a prison’s nasty floor, and Hiram now could take over the wh…ole city.

He laughed.

Of course.

He had handed the Southside to Hiram on a silver fucking platter. He had given him the Southside Serpents by making his son trust him. He had given him the whole drug trade by getting rid of Clifford Blossom and Jughead gained territory on the Ghoulies.

He felt so dizzy, his head spinning in circles. He could taste blood on his mouth now.

He had been so stupid.

He should have known better.

Hiram Lodge cared about himself and only about himself… That had been true thirty years ago, and that was true now.

Stupid.

So stupid.

His only regret was not being a better father to Jughead and Jellybean. They had deserved someone who would have protected them. He had tried, at the end, but that wasn't enough… How could he have undone seventeen years of hurt in a few months?

He figured it didn't matter anymore. He was about to die alone, with only one person in the world to maybe actually love him. After all, Jughead had stayed for him.

He was supposed to get out of here soon. He was… He was supposed to have found his equal, the person who not only understood him, but accepted him, with his gritty humour and flaws… So many flaws. Deep down, he knew Hiram would never truly want him, just what he could provide: manpower, an easy access to more palladium.

He coughed, droplets of blood splattering on his face.

Maybe thirty years ago, if G&G hadn't been a thing, if Featherhead hadn't died. Maybe then he and Hiram could have had something, but in this reality, he was just a stepping stone for the man he had started falling for again.

He should have known better. There wasn't anyone out there that would truly love him. Not like he yearned. Not like he had hoped to find in Alice, then Gladys, and now Hiram. Or the string of people in between.

He had lived nearly fifty years. That was twenty-five more years than he had thought he would live.

“I am so sorry, Jughead. I screwed up again.” He whispered in the empty room.

He closed his eyes. He was tired. He was tired of fighting demons no one else could see. Ghosts of the people he had lost overseas. Faces of the people he had disappointed by being him. By existing.

His parents.

Fred.

His family.

Maybe now they could all move on, unburdened by his presence.

Jughead held his father's hand. He was cuffed to the bed, despite his many arguments with Sheriff Keller and the warden. He supposed it was a small victory that they had managed to get his dad in a separate room.

“You gotta wake up, Dad. You are so close to getting out, you can't leave me alone now.” He whispered. “Please, Dad. You gotta come back, everyone is waiting for you.”

FP knew someone was talking to him. He felt like he was waking from a very heavy sleep, but not at all reconstituting. He felt like shit, and his mouth felt like it was full of sand.

The person spoke again, begging him to wake up. He tilted his head towards it, trying to place it. 

It took a few minutes of picturing a little boy begging to be given uppies, of giving fewer and fewer hugs, of telling him he was just a drunkard and that he’d rather sleep under a bridge than under his roof.

Or his boy coming back home, and sticking by his side.

“Jug…?” He whispered, fighting to open his eyes. 

The teen looked up at the soft murmur, meeting his dad's dark eyes. “Dad!” He scrambled to hug him. “I thought you wouldn't…”

“I’m sorry I sc’red you.” He said, his voice raspy. “Wat’r, please?”

“Y-yeah.” His son hurried to pour some water in a cup and help him drink. “How are you feeling?”

“Run over.” He grumbled. “Hospital?”

“Family room.” Jughead corrected. “We tried to get you to a hospital, but they said you were a flight risk, so this is the best we could do.”

“And they let you in?” FP asked, relaxing when Jughead grabbed his hand again.

“We may or may not have blackmailed the warden.”

FP blinked at his son, but his brain was too sluggish to unpack all of that. “How long have I…?”

“Four days. You lost a lot of blood.” He explained. “But the doctor said you’d make a full recovery.” FP hummed, struggling to stay awake. “Sleep, Dad. I’ll come by after school. I wish I didn't have to go, but I have a test that I cannot miss.” He said, standing up to press a kiss on his forehead. 

“Hey, Jug…” He slurred, he wanted to tell him he was so proud of him, for doing well in school, for keeping the Serpents going. “I love you.” That was all he could muster at the moment. He wanted him to know.

He needed him to know that despite the failure of a dad he had, he was loved.

“I love you too, Dad.” Came the soft reply.

“Hey, boss.” Grizzly, Pepperhot and Cheetoh stepped inside the room. The door stayed open, a guard staying outside. “How are ya doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?” He grunted. He moved to sit up, growling when Cheetoh tried to help him. Like hell he was letting them help him sit up. “How's everything out there?”

“Blossom was found dead the same day you got stabbed.” Pepperhot said. “We sent a word out about his threat to Jughead, but things have been quiet. Apparently your boy has gone after them hard.”

FP smiled: of course Jug did. As much as he hadn't wanted him to be a Serpent, the kid had a natural talent for it.

“We also got word that Lodge was lurking around Southside High, and the Whyte Wyrm.” Grizzly said, his voice gruff. “I guess he heard you were out of commission, and pounced.”

FP wanted to say that it couldn't be, that they had a deal, and understanding, but if Hiram was already making moves, what was to keep him from taking a bottle back and forget about everything?

I love you too, Dad.

Yeah.

He couldn't do that to his son. Not again.

Hiram stared at the man kneeling on his feet. He paid SweetPea and Fangs their share, and both teens walked away.

“Well, hello, Jim Parson.” He said, leaning against the hood of his car.

“Mi-mi-mister Lodge.” He gasped, his eyes blown wide. “What… what's going on?”

Hiram looked at him, and to anyone who didn't know him it would look as disinterest, but there was hatred burning in his eyes.

“What's going on is that you tried to kill the man I call my partner.” He said, standing up. “And I’m here to repay the favour. With the difference that I’m going to succeed, and you are going to die, slowly. Painfully.” He took out a knife.

“He told me to do it! Blossom did!” The man begged, the smell of urine permeating the air as it pooled under him.

“There is this thing called free will, Jim. Not that I believe you for a second, when you wrote in your very public reddit-something, my daughter found you for me, that you ‘I stabbed one of them fags in jail today. He’s gonna die and no one will know.’ Well, clearly you are as much of an idiot as you look if you thought that, at the very least the Serpents wouldn't come after you.”

It was a regular kitchen knife from a regular supermarket. A truly unremarkable weapon to kill an even less impressive man.

He knelt in front of the man, stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth, and without a second of hesitation, he stabbed him in the stomach, digging the knife as deep as possible, before pulling it out.

He stood up, putting the knife in a bag to avoid getting his shoes dirty, and walked away.

He dropped the knife near a Ghoulie hangout: two birds, one stone.

And now, his Forsythe was safe, he had taken revenge for him.

And now that he was back in Riverdale, he could finally go see him and get him out of jail, once and for all.

He had been settled in the room he was usually assigned when Hiram came to sex it up. He hadn't heard a peep from the man since the last time they were there together.

He couldn't help but wonder if Hiram was the one behind it all.

His fingers dug into his new tattoo, hissing at the sting.

Stupid.

So stupid.

At least he still had Jughead.

He had accepted that he was not getting out of there. Twenty years. By the time he got out, if he did, Jughead would be nearly forty, JB would be thirty, and he would probably be in diapers.

Assuming he didn't leave in a casket.

That was almost the preferable option, all things considered. That way he wouldn't be a burden to anyone.

Maybe he should just end it all now, getting a blade would not be all that difficult. Or he could just overdose, there were enough drugs rolling around for it not to even be suspicious.

He was such a loser. He should have known he was not worthy of being loved. That he would never be enough for someone to want to keep him. He was the leader of a gang, an alcoholic bum, good-for-nothing husband, even worse father.

He woke up to someone stroking his hair, a warm body laying next to him.

It was nice. He moved closer, the stab wound not really bothering him anymore, it was just a tender ache when he pressed on it, or if he was too rough. The petting stopped and he frowned, forcing himself to open his eyes and be met with the reality that it was a dream.

“Hey. There you are.” A low, slightly raspy voice said. FP frowned, what was Hiram doing there?

FP didn't say anything, he simply stared at him. Hiram looked… like shit. His hair looked floppy, he had dark circles under his eyes and worse of all, he hadn't been shaving, he easily had a two or three day stubble on.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, moving his head away from the hand still resting on it. “I’m not up for a booty call, unfortunately.”

Hiram's face did a complicated thing, anger that lasted a second before morphing into devastation, before that was replaced by a stony mask.

“Is that why you think I’m here? For sex, and not because my partner got stabbed and nearly bled to death?” He asked, his voice cold.

Detached.

Good. Detached meant he was pulling away, leaving him to just pass away on his own.

He was already going to hurt Jughead with this, he didn't need to hurt someone else, even if he didn't particularly believe that Hiram would be hurt at all.

“I don't know. Are you? It's not like you've been here since the last time you wanted sex. It's not like you came here for anything other than sex.” He grunted, pushing himself to sit up, but Hiram pressed him down by his shoulders, straddling him. “Get off me.”

“No. You’re gonna listen to me first, you stubborn ass.” Hiram said, settling even more on his thighs. “I get that I’m not great at showing affection, but do you really think I would have come to see you as much as I could buy myself into if I didn't care for you? That I would have asked you to be mine? I got you a presidential pardon, you absolute idiot. I killed the guy who almost took you from me. That's why I couldn't come sooner, I was in Washington.”

FP understood why people said their brain had had a record scratch. Because what? What was he talking about? What presidential pardon?

“Huh?” He eloquently said, blinking at the man still firmly sat on top of him.

“Jesus, how is your son so smart? I was away, trying to get you a fresh start. The proof you gave us, that just proved that you were innocent, and Blossom coerced you into helping him and taking the fall.” 

The wave of guilt that crashed over him made him nauseous. Hiram did… Hiram had… And he thought that he had put a hit on him.

He raised a hand, putting it on Hiram's chest and pushing. Hiram resisted, pressing down harder, but FP shook his head. 

“Let me sit up.” He told him. Hiram rose enough to kneel but still be able to sit on him if FP moved too far away.

But he didn't, he simply sat up and pulled him into a hug, clinging to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Hiram didn't say anything, he just hugged him back and tucked him under his chin. He didn't know what FP was really apologising for and at that moment in time, he didn't care, all he knew was that his partner needed him.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until FP pulled back enough to kiss him.

It was… soft. And sweet. And everything they weren't used to. But Hiram still melted into it, still pushed them towards the mattress so he could be on top of FP.

“Feeling better?” He whispered against his lips. FP only kissed him again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him there. 

He tore away from his lips to kiss him on the neck, teeth grazing on his pulse a few times until Hiram was trying, and failing, to not grind against him.

FP ran his hand down his back, until he could slide them into Hiram's back pockets, pressing his hips down harder against him.

“Forsythe, wait a minute.” Hiram said, grabbing his hands, squeezing tight when FP glared at him. “Fuck off with that look. You are the one who said he wasn't up for sex.”

FP sagged against the bed. “I was angry, okay? I thought… Well, it doesn't matter, let's just say I wasn't in a good headspace.” He explained as vaguely as he could.

The look on Hiram's face made it very clear he was dropping the topic for the moment, but that they would be picking it up in the future.

“Okay. What do you want then?” He asked then, grinding against FP’s hardening cock.

“You inside me.” 

Hiram nodded before leaning down and kissing him again, gentle. Not sweeping in and fighting him to take control, no, it was sweet, and caring, and it made him feel… loved.

Hiram traced his arms with his hands, getting to his own and interlacing their fingers.

“Can you give up for me tonight? Can you let me take care of you?” He asked. FP nodded, tilting his head backwards. Hiram smiled, pressing a kiss on his jaw “Thank you, mi amor.”

FP’s eyes widened, but before he had time to reply, Hiram kissed him again, this time with more intent behind it, and started grinding on him again. He kept a slow rhythm, until both of them were panting, chasing the other’s mouth.

Hiram pulled his hands away, fingers massaging his arms, digging in deepers at the biceps, smiling when FP relaxed, his legs falling open a bit more.

“Yeah, that's it. Let go for me, Forsythe.” He whispered, moving his hands towards his chest. He thumbed his nipples over his shirt, grinning at the muffled moan he pulled out of his partner. He made quick work of his shirt, his eyes immediately going to the wound.

It was healing nicely, the stitches were still there, but they were already falling off, as there were a couple missing.

He bent down and pressed a kiss on it, resting his forehead on his chest. He had been so close to losing him.

“Hey.” FP said, burying a hand in his head. “I’m okay, Hiram. Just be careful with it.”

His only reply was a hum, before his partner moved to start sucking on one of his nipples, worrying it between his teeth until FP started shaking. 

One hand snaked down, thankful that there was no bodysuit around his time, and he had much easier access to his cock. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking slowly, watching Forsythe slowly come undone.

“Ffuuuuck.” FP started to fuck his hand, his eyes closing. “N-Need mo-oh fuck, more.”

“Gorgeous.” He whispered, tugging the sweat pants FP had been given out of the way.

He frowned when he saw some new ink peak on the top of his thigh. When had he…? He let that warm, hard cock he loved to… He shook his head, and used both hands to pull the garment out of the way, revealing the new tattoo.

It was a cleaver, with a snake coming off of the blade, and then wrapping around the handle. The design was simple, heavy black lines, no colour, and some shading. Traditional American, FP’s voice provided in his head.

He traced the lines with his finger, mesmerised. The meaning of it was so clear, too. It was them. 

That would explain why FP had been so angry at him. He had gotten them tattooed, and he thought he had only been using him for sex.

He leaned down, aware of FP’s gaze on him, and kissed it, running his tongue along the lines until he had done it all.

“For us?” He finally asked, devotion in his voice. He knew how much tattoos meant to FO, every single one of them had a deep meaning to the man: his Southside Serpents tattoo, the ones for his kids, the Army tattoo, his squad’s unofficial motto, the one in Latin, as he had later learnt.

And now them. It was so obvious, and at the same time, very few people would know what it meant.

“No, for the supermarket girl at the butchery section. She’s really good with a cleaver.” FP replied, glaring at him. “What do you think, huh?”

Hiram rolled his eyes at him before sucking a bruise right under it. Once he was satisfied, he pulled away and started sucking on his cock, keeping just the head in his mouth, one of his hands wrapped around the rest, just the way he knew FP enjoyed the most.

The man was a sucker for him on his knees, or between his legs.

He kept going, tonguing the slit until FP started fucking into his mouth, seemingly unable to keep his cool facade on anymore, so he just let the man chase his pleasure, enjoying it himself too.

A hand gripped his dark hair tight, and pulled him off. “Please. Hiram, please.” He begged, pulling his legs open even more. “Fuck me, please. Need it.”

“Jesus, Forsythe, you are gonna kill me.” He whispered. “But I promised I’d take care of you, so you don't have to beg. At least not today.” FP huffed lightly at that.

“Is that what you want? To make me beg?”

“We are already there, it seems.” He said, pulling away to take off his own clothes, only his underwear remaining, that way he could focus on his partner the way he deserved. He sat on the bed again, feet firmly planted on the floor. “Come here.”

FP arched an eyebrow at him before doing as told, and climbing on Hiram’s lap. He hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder, and just let him do as he pleased. 

He heard the lube being uncapped, the squelch of fingers warming the liquid up before a finger circled his hole. He let out a small sound, between a moan and a whimper at the feel. It had been so long. Nearly a month since he had seen Hiram, since he had had anything in him.

“Ah.” He closed his eyes, determined to enjoy it thoroughly. He rocked his hips against it, his cock brushing with Hiram’s stomach. “Hn.”

“So vocal today, mi amor.” He whispered, pulling his finger out before pushing it again.

A few minutes later, when FP was squirming in his lap, trying to get more, he pushed a second finger, kissing the man’s pale neck until he relaxed again.

And then three, which had FP moaning and panting as if he were in heat, rocking against his fingers.

“Good, right?” He pressed them in further, grinning when FP threw his head back.

Bingo. He left fingers pressed against his prostate, loving the way FP started trashing in his lap, fucking himself on his fingers.

Or trying to, because he wasn't letting him, one arm wrapped around his waist, keeping him down.

“Fuuuuuck. Hiram, I s-sweaaahhh to God…” His cock leaked another fat drop of precum. 

“I love seeing you this desperate.” Hiram whispered before removing his fingers.

FP was going to say something snippy back, but then Hiram stood up, lifting him up and pressing him against the wall and holy fuck, he did not know that was an option.

Hiram pushed his underwear down enough that he could free his cock. He knew there was still more than enough lube in Forsythe’s hole.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at his man, who looked a bit wild in the eyes, a bit gone.

FP nodded, hooking his ankles around his waist, arms around his shoulders.

They both shuddered as the head popped inside him, as Hiram kept his thrusting to a minimum, until he was all the way inside. He waited until FP mumbled a please in his ear, and then he started to f… make love to him.

After everything, after thirty years, that was just what it was. It wasn't just sex, it wasn't just a way to get off, it was a way to prove a man that had been hurt and betrayed so many times that he saw him, and that he put him first.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He whispered, kissing his shoulder. “You put your kid first, you’ve been fighting for so long, and you’ve come on top, Forsythe. It's time to come home now. Leave the trailer park, move in with me.” He said, moving faster. “I can give you anything you want, you just gotta tell me. You don't have to struggle anymore.”

FP clung to him, sucking in a breath as his pleasure-addled filtered through the words, and understood what Hiram couldn't say.

That he wanted him by his side.

That he wanted him safe.

That he wanted to give him a better life.

That he saw him.

That he loved him.

He hid his face on Hiram's neck, breathing hard, focusing on the feel of the man, the arms around him, the hit breath brushing over his neck, the slapping Hiram's thighs against his ass.

Hiram kissed him on the cheek, and he came undone with a sob, coming against their stomachs.

“Fuck, Forsythe.” Hiram gasped, nails digging into him. “Shit, baby. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep going. Come in me.” FP said, heels digging in. “Move, Jaime.”

And so Hiram did, fucking into him until he came with a muffled cry against his shoulder. FP brought his legs down, because it was clear Hiram would not be able to hold him for much longer. 

They both hissed when Hiram’s cock slid out of him. They stayed like that, using the wall to keep them upright until they were able to stumble onto the bed. FP immediately reached out, needing the physical contact, laying an arm over his waist, pulling him closer, until they were face to face, legs intertwined.

“I love you too.” He finally said. He saw the sharp breath intake, the eyes widening, how his body relaxed after a few.seconds, after the words had truly sank in. FP smiled. “How about you take me home now, hm? And just for the record, what I said at the beginning still stands true: I won't be a kept man, I’m gonna work.”

“I figured that much.” Hiram said. “I do want to make a house for us, and the kids. Tear down Thornhill and make it ours. Make it very clear to the Blossoms that it's all ours now. And I know nothing about construction. Do you happen to know any good foremen? Bonus point if he has tattoo, fucks me the way I like, and is a serpent king.”

“Yeah, fine.” He laughed, mouthing Hiram's jaw. He wasn't about to argue about getting paid for building his own home too. He was starting to realise that what Hiram failed to say in words, he said in actions. Plus, it would be good practice to get back into it for real. “I’ll get my guys together. But I meant it, I want to… do something.”

“I do need to talk to you about Southside High, but we are gonna need your son there for that. But as a heads up, we are turning that into a distillery, most of the people working there will be Serpents. Oh, and Andrews Construction, but that's a whole different topic.” He said. “But again, later. The first thing is to sleep some, and then we are gonna talk.”

FP sighed. “I’m okay, alright? It's just been… Hard.” He explained. “And I got in my head a bit too much, nothing to worry about, Scout's honour.” He held out his fingers.

“Other hand, sweetheart.” Hiram drawled before curling in, one hand traveling down to rest on top of the cleaver tattoo. He still couldn't believe it. “It's good that you are better, but I still want to know what went through your mind. You matter to me, Forsythe, and you don't even realise how much yet. But you will one day, sooner rather than later, I’ll make sure of that, mi amor. ”

FP sighed, he knew when he lost a battle, so he just closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. He knew there would be problems, they were both too stubborn, too proud for it not to cause issues, but for now? He was just going to enjoy the feeling of being loved.

Tomorrow would be a brand new day. A day with freedom, and fresh air and hopefully a reunion with his son and people.

And if he just happened to have the richest, most powerful guy next to him, well, he was Hiram's, Hiram's was his, so they would own the city one day, they just needed to find a way to do it.

Some wars were worth fighting for. And he had chosen the best one.