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Rub-A-Dub
A Mentalist Fanfic
Happy shrieks carry down the hallway from the bathroom, at times heralded by the sound of a hand smacking water.
Patrick sets the moistened teabag down and chuckles as he sips. He is surprised to hear the soft clink of cup meeting saucer with the antics going on.
"Haleigh, cooooome on." Exasperation colors his wife's tone. Even from the kitchen, he can sense her growing impatience.
From the moment they had brought her home, tucked snugly in a knitted green blanket, Haleigh Michelle had proven she would be a wild card; a delightful handful.
Never was this personality trait more evident then at bath-time. It didn't matter who did the honors, she behaved the same for each of them. As soon as the large tub was filled, the fun began. At just under two years old, their daughter was a force to be reckoned with.
Soon bubbles clung to every surface, shampoo bottles were upturned and squeals mingled with sighs.
Teresa thought she'd caught a break tonight, an unusually subdued little girl nearly falling asleep in her carrots. He offered to clean up while she scooped their blonde mischief maker into her arms, making her way to their main floor bathroom.
It was as if Haleigh's body recognized the change of location because she popped her head up from her mom's shoulder as they reached the door.
Now, a scant 10 minutes later, things had escalated to a fever pitch. Swallowing the last of the tea, Jane strolls down to the bathroom.
His delight grows at the well-known scene. Teresa has squatted down by the tub's rim, a body wash soaked loofah in one palm. Large wet sploches cover her sweatpants and faded jersey shirt. It droops off one shoulder tantalizingly.
Blue eyes whip up to meet his. "Dadeeeeee," the toddler screeches. Her chubby hands stretched out, fingers clenching and relaxing quickly in the age-old gesture of 'come closer.'
Stepping over a rather sizable puddle, he offers her his fingers.
"Miss. Haleigh Jane are you causing trouble for Mommy?"
She's totally unaware of Lisbon's waterlogged appearance, grinning up at him.
He can't restrain the choke of laughter when Teresa blows back a wet tendril of hair. She gives him that familiar glare, its fierceness lessened by her own reluctant amusement.
"Why don't you go get changed my dear," he says. "I'll make sure our mermaid gets to bed."
Her relief is unmistakable and she bends down to kiss his cheek. "Rub-A-Dub-Dub," she whispers.
"Two Janes by the tub," he calls back to her retreating back.
And both of his girls giggle.