So, it's currently 4am(ish) in Australia and this is the result of some extreme insomnia. It's more of a filler chapter as I didn't want to put anything too important in a chapter I wrote at this time of night but I still think it turned out pretty good so I decided to go out on a limb and upload it. If you don't like pointless chapters then let me know but if you do like it, let me know as well because it's a lot less embarrassing putting your stories and inner ramblings up when people tell you that they're not half bad
There was always an anticipated lull in business around December time. In a way it was welcomed as carnies were able to travel to see their families, celebrate the Christmas festivities or get a headstart on preparing for next year's performances. Patrick Jane particularly despised the month. His father would usually disappear for weeks at a time at the end of the year, blowing their money and binge drinking his way through various towns. The Ruskin kids would go to Europe dutifully to see their grandparents and Jack would be with his family wherever the nearest church was as his family were deeply religious. Patrick would get frequent letters from them but it did little for the loneliness. So usually he would resort to his trailer and work on elaborate reading techniques and invest his head into psychology textbooks
However Patrick wasn't feeling particularly downtrodden about the usually gloomy month. In fact, he started believing that there might be some merit to people saying how December was a magical month. He skipped down the not very busy midway, expertly dodging the few marks that were disgruntled by the bitter chill, lack of amusements due to the weather conditions and probably the general stresses of Christmas time. He briefly stopped to surprise kiss Sam on the cheek on the balcony of her trailer, pull a reluctant Pete into a waltz and give Penelope's trunk a hug. The carnival folk, although being carefully detached, were still rather close-knit for safety so it was normal for news to travel fast. It was no real surprise that the reluctant carnival princess and psychic boy wonder were together. The real question most of the carnies asked when told this piece of information was: 'then what the hell were they before?'
He drew the purple sparkly curtains back in the Boy Wonder tent to find his father who had his feet on the small round table, puffing smoke from his cigarette and having a whiskey.
"Paddy, my boy," he said standing up, blowing smoke into Patrick's face who coughed slightly. "I was worried about ya when you didn't show up last night…"
"Sorry, Dad," Patrick said. "I meant to talk to you about that, the reason I didn't come home…"
"Then I hear the news, son!" Alex beamed, cutting across him. "You've got in with the Ruskin girl."
"Her name is Angela," Patrick said flatly. "And yes but that isn't…"
"I'm proud of you, my boy," Alex said proudly, clapping Patrick's arm. "I knew you could seduce her and now I hear you've nailed her!"
Patrick's hands balled into fists. "Not that it is any of your business, Dad but I haven't nailed her. I stayed there last night because a few of your poker boys roughed me up after my show. You need to pay them back Dad otherwise we've got trouble."
Alex waved his hand at Patrick. "Don't worry too much, Paddy. It's just cheap, harmless scare tactics. I've dealt with fellas like these before. They've got bigger fish to fry. They'll cut their losses and move on in no time."
Patrick rolled his eyes. "Dad, these guys are serious."
"Enough, enough," Alex put his hand up. "I've gotten us this far, Paddy. Don't start questioning me now, boy, we're a team. Now, we've got a dead day today so go make use of yourself."
Patrick muttered to himself angrily as he left. His father hadn't come close to ruining the feeling of pure ecstasy but he had definitely annoyed him. He grabbed a broom and start sweeping the sweet wrappers and debris that was inside the ghost train ride when he looked up and came face to face with an upside down Angela and nearly had a heart attack. She was hanging upside down from the beams by her knees like a monkey.
"Did you speak to your dad?"
"Yeah, but he's not taking it seriously as expected. You should get down from there?"
She crossed her arms and she swayed left and right with ease defiantly.
"I've been doing this since before you could tie your shoes, psychic boy, I think I've got this."
He grabbed both sides of her face to hold her still and kissed her passionately until her legs went to jelly in a matter of seconds and her knees failed her. Patrick chuckled as he managed to catch her and place her on the floor the right way up.
"That doesn't count," she complained with her hands on her hips. "You did that on purpose."
He pulled her waist so her body was against him and brushed her hair from her eyes.
"I was just kissing my girlfriend?" he said innocently and hoped it didn't show on his face how much it thrilled him to say that.
It was dark in the ride but he could see her smile too and it dazzled him to the very core of his bones and he kissed her again and again. Only pausing to kiss her neck in order to let her breathe.
Patrick's knees started to go wobbly like hers had and he deliberately fell backwards into one of the carts and pulled her on top of him to which she shrieked in surprise. There she lay on his chest, trying to regain control of her breathing while listening to his rapid heartbeat. He closed his eyes and stroked her silky hair, still trying to believe that she was real and she was here.
"I've wanted this for so long," he admitted. "To be with you. I'm going to go crazy when you're in Paris."
She played with the buttons of his shirt. "I'm not sure I'll go to Paris this year."
"Why?" he asked. "Not that I'm against the idea of you staying, but I thought you loved it."
"I do," she said quietly, still fiddling with this buttons. "My grandparents are just starting to put a lot of pressure on me about taking over the business. And besides, I'd be leaving the day after we sleep together and I don't know what things are going to be like, you know, afterwards."
Patrick held her closer. "Don't worry about that, baby. You don't have to put a deadline on your virginity now."
"What?"
"You were worried about your next boyfriend finding it weird you were a virgin and not knowing what you're doing. That's not an issue anymore," he kissed her head. "We can wait for six months…a year…our wedding night. Hell, we can live in celibacy for the rest of our lives if that's what you want."
Angela's heart stuttered at his offer. Men like Patrick Jane belonged in books and movies. Not underneath mediocre carnival girls.
"No, I still want to, please," she said and then sat up slightly. "Unless you don't want to and that's ok-"
It must've been a magician thing but somehow she ended up on her back, underneath him with her arms pinned above her head in about two seconds.
"Oh, my angel," he said, kissing her wrists. "I would make love to you this second if my lust outweighed my love for you right now."
He reluctantly got off of her and offered her his hand to get out which she, by his surprise, took.
"What would you like to do today, girlfriend of mine?" he asked and he felt that thrill of adrenaline would never get old.
"I've got a carnival to decorate," she said with her hands on her hips and then looked at his broom. "And you have chores. Don't think because you're dating 'carnival royalty' that you get out of work," she cupped her hand like the queen to wave goodbye to him.
"Dating implies I've been allowed to take you on a date."
"You're right. You can pick me up at 7."
"7:30," he narrowed his eyes at her and knew she was playing him.
"Fine," she smiled.
He looked at her for a few moments suspiciously.
"Did you just set up me asking you on a date?"
"You're the mentalist, you tell me," Angela said and turned on her heel to leave. "And you missed a spot!" she called behind her.
"Hey, you're right," Patrick said and brushed the broom over a clump of broken spider webs and dust that was hanging on the ceiling of the ride directly above her so it fell into her hair. She shrieked and ran from the ghost train, swearing at him as she went.
000
Jonathan Ruskin, like Patrick in some regard, also took the uneventful December opportunity to become secluded and catch up on all the paperwork that accompanied being in charge of a carnival empire. Though there were upsides to December for him. For instance, his daughter, the light of his life had been born and he made the careful planning of each birthday of paramount importance annually. Not to mention, the coming of winter meant she would have to encase her legs in proper pants rather than those little high waisted abominations that left little to young men's imaginations which could only be an improvement in Jonathan's eyes.
Jonathan went into the trailer, attempting to flick through various magazines of Sam's in order to find a nice dress that a not-so-average eighteen year old girl could wear to her surprise party. It was difficult though as the kid had such a bizarre sense of style. He glanced up for a moment when he entered his kitchen and had to double-take to make sure he hadn't wandered into the wrong home.
Tinsel was wrapped and draped around every handle and hook, fairy lights twinkled from the curtain rods and ceremoniously placed festively coloured bowls of bulbuls, painted pinecones and candy canes littered any flat surface. His son walked in behind him with a look that was certainly not amused. He had reindeer ears on, tinsel was draped around him like a scarf and he tinkled when he walked.
"She tied bells to my shoelaces, Dad," Danny said. "Bells."
Angela then waltzed in, spinning this way and that with armfuls of tinsel, humming some kind of tune.
"Hello, Daddy!" she exclaimed happily. "Isn't everything just fantastic?" She roped him in with a long piece of gold tinsel and spun him around twice before kissing his cheek and waltzed out of the room again like the sugarplum fairy.
He had a bad feeling about this and followed her to her room and rapped three times on the door softly.
"Come in!" she said chirpily.
She had collapsed on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest. Jonathan sat down beside her warily.
He noticed certain things that were different about his daughter this evening. Besides the strange mood, her soft curls had fallen and been arranged in an organised and careful manner and her cheekbones and lips seemed a slightly few shades redder than usual. Jonathan then noticed the extra mess that had joined the usual mess on Angela's floor. Hairbrushes, shoes, hair ribbons and every outfit she owned seem to be emptied on to the floor, flung over her desk, chair and mirror.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked.
She sat up quickly, positively glowing and he sincerely prayed to god that it had nothing to do with the half naked boy running out of her room this morning. "I'm brilliant, Dad."
"Right," he said slowly. "Not that I'm complaining about the improvement in your mood, the extra messiness of your room is nearly worth it, but what's going on?"
"I'm going on a date tonight, Daddy."
He should have known. This thing again.
"Are you back on with that Rory kid again? Oh, please don't tell me it's the O'leary boy or I'll jump out of a window, Evangeline, I really might."
She laughed and Jonathan noticed it was the first genuine one he'd heard in a few years.
"No, it's Patrick."
Jonathan's blinked a couple of times and tried to keep calm.
"Patrick. Oh, I thought you two…were…friends. Remember, baby, that's why you were allowed to go to his place so many times and I didn't disembowel him this morning because you were only friends."
"We were but I guess its different now."
"Something happened last night, didn't it?" Jonathan said hysterically. "I knew it."
"Nothing happened, last night Dad," Angela said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Okay," Jonathan said, knowing that Angela would be telling the truth. "You need to be careful, baby, Patrick Jane…well, you know I don't put much stock in gossip but even I can't deny that his reputation is-"
"Daddy, no," Angela said putting her hand over Jonathan's mouth and starting talking a million miles an hour. "I know that too, Dad and I know what you're worried about and I'm freaking out too because I have no idea what I'm feeling because I'm feeling things I've never felt before and sometimes it's really simple and straightforward and then it's really complicated and hard to understand at the same time and I feel like it's just too many feelings for a seventeen year old at the moment so I should just do what feels right and this feels right even though I'm going to over analyse everything when I get home. But I'm trying not to think about all that stuff and just focus on how happy and excited I am at the moment because it's been so long since I've been this happy about something, Dad so surely that means something doesn't it? Well, I hope it does. I just really want to look nice and not spill something on myself or sneeze while I'm eating or start to cry while I'm with him because I'm so messed up. And I know you have to be my Dad and you have to tell me all the negatives but please, please, please just put that aside for the moment and tell me tonight's going to be alright?"
She slowly removed her hand and Jonathan was sitting there dumbfounded.
"I don't know what any of that meant," he admitted.
"Trust me, I got this?" she amended for him. Living with two men her whole life gave her plenty of practice at this.
Jonathan gave her the thumbs up and went to ruffle her hair before quickly taking his hand away, remembering the effort and care she must've taken.
He stood up and opened her bedroom door.
"Angela," he said and she looked up at him in surprise that he was using her preferred name.
"Yeah?"
"You look beautiful. And tonight's going to be fine."
"Thank you, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you too, kiddo."