{A.N. Double chapter update! Fair warning for anyone who likes FP... he's kind of an asshole here. And for anyone who was hanging out to see what really happens when FP gets mad at Jughead in this fic, here it is and it's not pretty...}
Chapter 7: Sins Of The Father
Jughead pulled off his jacket and collapsed on the couch in a wet heap as soon as he got home to the trailer. It had been one hell of a day. Not only did he have to endure Alice Cooper over breakfast, but Betty and he found Polly and the getaway car only to have lost them both moments later. On top of everything, he was absolutely soaked through from the pouring, freezing rain.
He sat back up, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. This whole Jason Blossom murder mystery was taking over their lives and he kept wondering more and more if he knew the exact people who'd been involved in it all. It was weighing on him. And it was really driven home was FP stomped up the steps and into the doublewide moments later stinking on gasoline and smoke.
"Uh Dad"- Jughead began but was cut off when FP jerked him up to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
"You wanna tell me what you were doing out on Route 40 with that blonde?" FP demanded shoving Jughead painfully up against the wall of the doublewide.
"What do you mean?" Jughead asked, his voice shaking, struggling to keep his arms by his side - fighting back would only incense his father further. Especially tonight. With FP so close he could smell the whiskey on his breath, along with the almost-overpowering scent of gasoline and smoke from what he now assumed was burning Jason and Polly's getaway car complete with all of the evidence inside.
"Don't play dumb with me boy, I know you found that car," FP growled. He used his free hand to punch Jughead right in the gut making him gasp. "How did you know it was there?"
"Dad, I...Polly told us, Betty's sister. She was engaged to Jason," Jughead stammered.
"Goddamnit Jughead, you do realise that the drugs in that car were from the Serpents," FP said to him a low voice. "You could've implicated every Southside Serpent by telling the Sheriff. Myself included!"
He punctuated his last statement by throwing Jughead to the floor. He hit his side painfully on the coffee table and rolled off onto the floor.
"Dad, I didn't know! I couldn't have known!" Jughead said, staying on the floor. Better to stay there than to stand up again, FP would perceive that as him fighting back.
"Well how about this for today's lesson," FP said, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt making Jughead swallow nervously, "don't go searching for any more hidden getaway cars, or engaged girlfriends, or dead football players. Or what I'll do to you will make this feel like nothing." FP pulled his leather belt out from his jeans, folded it over and slapped his hand with it.
"Dad, please," Jughead held up a hand but FP whipped the belt in his direction. He cried out as it lashed painfully across his hand.
Jughead immediately covered his head with his arms, turning and facing away from his father as FP brought the belt down again and again on his unprotected back. He was still wearing a singlet and flannel shirt but it didn't offer much protection against FP's strong right arm. The leather belt cut down across his shoulders and his sides but Jughead bit his lip not wanting to make too many sounds - that would just make his father hit him harder. After only a minute or two of FP's belting, Jughead's entire back started throbbing. The belt was hitting places it had already struck once, twice, three times prior only seconds before. The hits started slowing but now every time the leather whipped his back Jughead gasped quietly, tears brimming in his squeezed-closed eyes and trickling unwanted down his cheeks.
In these moments Jughead never thought stupid things like why him? This was simply his lot in life. He had a deadbeat dad who was not only head of the Southside Serpents but also liked to take his anger and frustration out by smacking around his only son. Instead he tried to focus on the things in his life that were good. Things like his friendship with Archie, mangled though it had been since their missed road trip last summer it was on it's way back to rock solid, where it should be. Or Veronica who, despite coming from Met Galas and Manolos never looked down her nose at him. And Betty, his bright, shining light in the darkening storm that was his life.
He was just trying to picture her perfectly blue eyes when he felt the buckle of FP's belt land squarely against his ribs. Jughead couldn't help himself and cried out in pain at the strike. He moved his arms from protecting his head to wrapping around his middle, forcing himself to stop the agonising sobs that were now wracking his injured body.
"Had enough?" FP asked him but thankfully Jughead could already hear him buckling his belt back up.
"Y-yes," he whispered.
"Good. Next time you feel like playing detective and I find out this will seem like a walk in the park for you, got it?"
"G-got it."
"Good. Get the hell outta my sight. You're not sleeping here tonight. In fact, it's time for you to find somewhere new altogether. Get you stuff and get out." FP stalked to the back of the doublewide and Jughead flinched when he heard the bedroom door slam shut.
Jughead didn't need to be told twice to get out of the house although he did move a little slower than usual. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, biting back a cry of pain at the muscles pulling on his abused flesh. He forced himself to breathe deeply and push away the agony. He needed to get out of here. Hell, he should've gotten out of here months ago. Where was he supposed to go though? He groaned softly. FP didn't really think things through. Like how he was going to get his son to participate in the next fight at the Whyte Wyrm if he didn't know where he was sleeping. Screw it that's his goddamn problem not mine, Jughead thought, forcing himself to get to his feet and grabbing the side of the kitchen bar when he wavered on his feet.
He closed his eyes, breathing through the pain again and then gritted his teeth. He gingerly eased on his fleece-lined denim jacket, just that movement causing white hot sparks of pain radiating outwards from his back. Now came the worst part. He bit his lip while he shoved the last of his necessities into his backpack then picked it up, stifling a cry of pain at the weight of it pulling on his shoulder. He rolled his shoulders minutely trying to figure out which one was more sore. His left shoulder had been ever so slightly closer to FP and had borne the brunt of the lashes. His right shoulder had only suffered a few glancing blows. Jughead carefully lifted up the backpack and placed it on his right shoulder which felt alright but when the full weight of it leaned against his back he almost crashed back to his hands and knees again at the pain. He couldn't help the solitary entire-body-wracking sob that escaped from his lips as he hung onto the side of the sofa for dear life. Once the excruciating pain had dimmed to something slightly more manageable he took a shaky breath in and opened the door to the doublewide, pulling down his beanie against the chilly Fall wind that blew in.
Jughead stumbled out of the trailer and down the stairs, not even bothering to look back as he left. Where would he go now? Pop's was open 24 hours or he could head to Archie's. He physically shook his head at that idea. He figured Archie had a feeling that FP smacked him around a bit but he knew Archie didn't think it was as bad as it was. There was one place he could go, he realised.
He could go to Betty's.
