*Age Gap*
Mr. Jones
FP's POV
Pop's was quiet, uncommon for the early evening hours here in Riverdale. Jug sat across from me in the booth, deep in conversation with Archie while Fred talked to me about the next upcoming project for his construction company. I listened loosely. Lately I've become increasingly bored. Same old faces in the same old places. Riverdale has calmed down after the capture of the Black Hood and life has been pretty quiet since.
"How's the novel coming, Jug?" Fred asked my son when his conversation with Archie died down.
"Real good, Mr. Andrews." Jug replied excitedly. His writing was one of the only things that seemed to brighten up his life, that and that Cooper girl that has him smitten.
"He's going places with that stuff, ya know." I added. I sipped my milkshake, Jug now explaining the intricacies of his novel to Fred. When the bell chimed above the door to Pop's, normally I wouldn't have looked up, but something compelled me to. Betty walked in with a young girl trailing behind her. She looked about nineteen. Probably a senior from their school. I was hypnotized. Her hair, her eyes, her curves, her smile, her lips, her laugh.
What has gotten into me?
The mystery beauty said something to Betty before disappearing into the back of the small diner.
Betty pulled up a chair to our booth and everyone said their hellos while I was lost in thought. She re-emerged, the sight before me surely the cause of my death. Her Pop's uniform fit her form in all the right places, her legs seemingly smooth, bare and endless. She stood behind the counter, making light conversation with the customers across from her. I did my best to tune back into the people around me.
"How are you, FP?" Betty's question helped.
"Better, sober. Glad I've got my son back."
"I'm happy for you, for Juggie." She smiled sweetly, Jug chuckled out of embarrassment being the topic of conversation.
"I'm glad I've come home, Dad. I know you and mom are done, I understand that. But maybe, eventually, Jelly will want to come visit, or even come home. We've just gotta stay on the path we're on." His eyes were filled with hope and I smiled slightly.
"Here you go, Betts." The new center of my attention approached the table, placing a shake and fries in front of Betty.
"You know me so well, Y/N, which is saying something cause you've only been here a month." Betty laughed and thanked the girl.
"What can I say, I'm just that great." The girl I now know as Y/N gave Betty a wink and giggled. The sound made my heart beat stutter.
"Oh, Y/N, this is Archie's dad, Fred. And that's Juggie's dad, FP." Betty introduced us. Y/N smiled, leaning slightly in front of me to shake Fred's hand. She smelled of lavender and honey and it was oh so sweet. Her hand held out to me, I clasped it gently. Her skin was soft and warm but her fingertips cold. I felt goosebumps rise on my skin beneath my leather jacket.
"I should get back to work. Nice to meet you, Mr. Andrews." Her sweet, mischievous eyes made contact with mine. "Mr. Jones." With a slight nod, she turned gracefully to attend the others in the diner. The way she said my name, calling me Mr. Jones, it riled something up inside me and I'd like to hear it over and over again. I didn't mind subtlety watching her walk away either.
"So who's she?" Fred questioned curiously.
"Oh, she's the new Sheriff's daughter. They just moved here a month ago after he took over for Mr. Keller. She's a senior, nineteen," So I was right. "but she started working with Betty and Jug on the Blue and Gold, and she shares the same free period as us." Archie explained.
"She's so great, honestly. Sweetest person I've ever met." Betty gushed.
"There's only one way to describe Y/N Y/L/N," my son started. "She's a sweet wildfire."
"What do you mean?" The description intrigued me, so I couldn't help but ask.
"She's fiery and passionate, and sometimes she can be out of control like a forest fire, but it's always in a good way." He explained.
"An uncontrollable good." Betty added.
Huh. I think I'd like to experience that, experience her for myself.
I stopped my thoughts from going any further. She's my son's friend, she's so much younger than me.
She's the sheriff's daughter for fucks sake.
Slowly but surely people started to trickle out of the old fashioned diner. I remained, deciding to drink a milkshake or two more while reading over Jug's novel he's started. Soon enough, it was her and myself. I pretended to read, instead glancing right over the edge of the papers, watching Y/N as she glided around the restaurant, swiftly wiping down tables and fixing every small detail until they were perfect again. Her hair bounced as her body swayed, her skin seemed soft and smooth, untouched.
"Do you like Riverdale?" I found myself asking. She was bent over the booth in front of mine, cleaning left behind crumbs. Her head turned toward me, she's slightly wide with surprise I spoke. She hesitated, it seemed, before her gentle voice escaped her lips.
"Well, Mr. Jones," there she goes again. Oh god. "Anywhere is better than where I used to be." That wasn't an answer I was expecting. Her tone was filled with a deep pain she was clearly trying to hide with a light laugh. For some reason, I felt her pain, tugging my heart. I didn't think I could feel like that for someone else since my last relationship, other than my own children.
"Can I ask why?" She looked around the empty restaurant and then at the clock. A soft sigh and a moment later, she slid into the booth seat across from me.
"My mother was not a very kind woman. My dad, well, he loved her with all he could. But something was off with her. Nothing was ever enough. My dad tried to play perfect husband, and I tried to be the perfect daughter. And to my dad, I am. He's loving and supportive. He lets me make my own decisions and I trust him because he trusts me." Y/N stopped to take a breath.
Her voice shook, almost as much as her hands on the table. She noticed them, noticed me looking at them, and quickly pulled them into her lap before continuing.
"My mother, on the other hand... she beat me. For a long time, she did it secretively, kept it from my dad. Any time I did anything wrong was a punch to the gut or a closed fist to my chest plate. Always put bruises where no one could see. My dad, well he was so in love, he was trying so hard, that he couldn't believe me when I cried to him. I begged and pleaded. He refused to believe it because he still wanted to believe in her." I wanted to cry, my throat dry and rough. Her once shining eyes welled up and she looked everywhere but at me.
"Finally," she sucked in a quick breath, "finally she snapped. I broke curfew by three minutes, and well, I just had to be the worst daughter in the world, ruining her life. Hit after hit, it was endless and relentless. Dad was working late, so she continued to beat me down right there on her pristine, white-tiled kitchen floor. It's strange. I watched my own blood stain the floors she forced me to scrub on my hands and knees every night."
My blood boiled. I wanted that woman dead. My knuckles turned white where I held my clenched fists under the table. "Y/N.." she shook her head.
"I feel like I can trust you. I haven't told anybody this. But my words feel safe with you." She spoke softly, making eye contact now. She smiled through her tears, raising one hand to wipe her red eyes.
"I thought I was going to die. I really did. I was begging and pleading, crying and screaming for her to stop until one good punch to my face stopped me from speaking at all. I wanted to die after that. I was closing my eyes, letting my body give up. There was a ringing in my ears moments later. The hits stopped." Y/N sniffled, trying to calm her breathing.
"He shot her. My own dad had to shoot the woman he loved, my own mother, just to keep his daughter alive." My breath caught in my throat.
"Y/N, I don't know what to say.. I know I just met you, but I can honestly say you did not deserve that." I choked out. She sighed.
"No, maybe not. My dad definitely didn't deserve that. He shot the woman he loved. He almost lost his daughter to a woman that he put above everything else. I think back on my injuries and the damages I suffered. A broken jaw, four broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a fractured elbow, a dislocated hip, a cracked skull, I think there was more but I can't remember. However, I still feel like he suffered more than myself." She was full on crying now, shoulders shaking. Without hesitation, I got up and slowly sat beside her. She accepted my hold easily, whimpering into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, tracing small circles in the middle of her back.
"I'm sorry, for all that both of you had to suffer. I definitely know I don't like seeing you hurt, or cry." I spoke honestly. Y/N relaxed against me. It felt natural, she fit so perfectly. Her breathing steadied, her tears stopped, but she didn't move. And I didn't want her to. Voices outside brought us back into the world. She wiped her eyes and I reluctantly pulled away, beginning to slide out of the booth. Her hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned to face her, holding my breath as her soft lips pressed gently against the scruff on my jaw.
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." She whispered in my ear, barely audible. I struggled to find words as I moved back to my original seat and let her stand. Y/N started to walk away, turning back slightly. "You're a good man." Her words stunned me into silence, so I settled for watching her giggle and walk back to the counter as a group of kids entered the diner.
I never realized how badly I've wanted someone to feel something for me, to think highly of me, and give me the world.
I think I'd like that from her.
Third Person POV
Y/N laid at home, in her bed, thinking over the nights events. She couldn't believe she poured out her past to a man over twice her age, her friend's dad, whom she had just met. Her broke her walls down so easily, made her feel safe with just a glance of his gentle dark eyes in her direction. Sighing heavily, she let everything melt away as she relaxed into her heavy blankets. She couldn't help but dream of the older man and the things she'd wish he'd do.
Back in his trailer late that night, FP was in the same state. Jug was spending the night with Archie, so he was home alone, nothing to distract him, left with the thoughts of the mesmerizing young woman he met that day. He tried to keep the thoughts at bay. She was the sheriff's daughter, he led a prominent gang in Riverdale. Not everything he did was entirely legal. Y/N was his son's friend. Someone only two years older than him, whom he went to school with and hung out with.
I can't just prey on her like some animal, he thought.
Yet, there he sat on his old dingy sofa, watching Y/N occupy every inch of his not-so-innocent thoughts. He was a grown man with needs. He couldn't help but think of her curves, her lips, the way her hand brushed his shoulder and her lips brushed his jaw. They way her sultry, soft and sweet voice said Mr. Jones every time she addressed him. God, did that stir something deep inside him. Turned him on in ways he didn't know he could be. He groaned out of frustration, throwing his head back on the couch and trying, trying and ultimately failing to ignore the growing problem in his jeans.
Days, weeks, time itself passed so quickly as FP and Y/N drew closer together. He spent every other night with her at Pop's while she worked her shift. He did it casually, acted as though he was there drinking milkshakes and reading his son's novel, claiming to need peace from the Southside when anyone asked. But when the small town diner emptied, and they felt like the only two souls around. They got to know each other then, in the quiet of the night, deeper than just the surface.
FP prided himself in knowing Y/N inside and out. From her favorite color, to the damages her past caused her. He knew she liked her milkshakes without whipped cream, and that she kept ten favorite songs at a time and listened to them every day.
Y/N knew how he wanted a life other than Serpents, but that he was happy where he was. She knew everything, down to his troubles with Penny Peabody, he confided in her. He told her how hopeless he felt, how tired he was. He told her of his loneliness and heartache. How he was happy that his broken marriage was over, but that he missed his little Jellybean greatly. She knew his favorite smells, his dreams and aspirations he felt were far out of his reach at that point in his life. She knew how much he urged to drink, but stopped for his son. He yearned to make his son proud.
They knew each other down to every last intimate detail, and they liked it that way. Their secrets were their own and each other's at the same time. But altogether, they themselves and the relationship they shared was a secret to the world. They weren't together, neither discussed their feelings for one another, still dealing with their own inner doubts and turmoils about what a relationship with each other would bring. But they were friends, and they were close. They didn't want to share that with anyone else.
~
Part Two, anyone?