Hi, sorry for the delay. It's exam week at Uni where I am so it's taken a while to pump this one out. So enjoy

It was very late when Angela climbed into bed, finally having finished helping Danny pack for Paris. Jonathan was half thrilled and half concerned at his daughters request to stay home for the holidays. Thrilled because he loved his daughter and rarely got to spend time with her with how busy their lifestyle was. Not to mention it would be the first time he got to have her for her birthday since she was five. Concerned because he knew how she felt about the carnival and usually counted down the days til she could leave for Europe each year. He couldn't help but accept the fact it was probably the Jane boy's doing, even if indirectly. Although, Jonathan wished the boy hadn't been such a philanderer, he couldn't deny his daughter's uplifting spirit lately and Patrick seemed to adore her enough to hopefully stick to just her.

Angela knew her father was running out of reasons to hate Patrick. The way she saw it, she was already doing better than her parents. They had gotten pregnant with her when they were sixteen. It was customary, she knew, for him to at least attempt to disapprove in any way. Especially when the poor man had Sam raving about Patrick at any given moment like a rabid fan girl. She was over at that moment altering a dress while Jonathan and Pete played cards at the small kitchen table. Angela would've joined them (and robbed her father and Pete blind at cards) but she was attempting to sleep in the hope she would have enough brain cells left to concentrate on going to her party tomorrow with any semblance of grace (she knew full well in the shoes Sam had given that was not going to happen but at least being conscious may have improved her chances even in the slightest).

Her party had been moved forward since Danny and most of the folk were leaving on Christmas Eve (her birthday) so Jonathan had moved it to the twenty third. It also meant moving another quite important event…
Angela's mind wandered back to that and to Patrick and she knew now that it would be a long time before she could get her mind back on to sleeping knowing that she probably wouldn't be sleeping this time tomorrow night.

Angela was a sickly mixture of nervous and excited. Truthfully, she had no idea what she was doing. Not only with sex but with everything with her life at the moment. Sam had been a wonderful mother figure to Angela for most of her life and although she knew she could talk to Sam about anything, Angela knew that Sam was too in love with the carnival life to understand anything Angela was talking about. She reached under the bed where her guitar was and rested it on her chest as she lay. Her thumb went over the small indentation of the wood where her mother's initials had been etched in. She strummed it a couple of times quietly.

Quietly as it may have been, Sam had bionic ears and stormed into Angela's room a moment later with a handful of red fabric in one hand and a vicious looking pair of pinking shears in the other while telling Angela to put the guitar away before it ended up in the bin with the rejected parts of her dress fabric. Sam had not taken the sudden rescheduling of the party well and was rushing through the birthday dress renovations.

Angela wasn't the biggest fan of dresses but had to admit that the one Sam had made was beautiful. The only problem was the black lace of the underskirt. There was just too much of it. One the outside the red dress looked normal but underneath the calm, demure exterior an explosion had occurred and it didn't take a genius or a carnival worker that had known the girl long enough that no matter how many test runs they did, one of those slips of fabric was going to find it's place underneath Angela's heel at the opportune moment and Angela would end up in the laps of the one of the guests or if fate was feeling especially catty, knocking over a tent (it wouldn't be a first time). So that is how it came to be that poor Sam was up at nearly midnight, swimming around in lace and cotton.

Angela could only assume that Sam had completed this mission not longer after she had finally fallen asleep as when she woke up in the morning, her dress (now cut to just below her knee for safety with a much neater and invisible undercoat) was draped across her desk chair with a neat post it note. I'll be there at 1. Be ready. Even though Angela knew that Sam only wanted to make Angela's party perfect, this sounded a lot like a threat than a favour.

While thoughtfully constructing herself a shampoo mohawk in the shower, Angela realised with a nervous flutter in her stomach that she should probably shave her legs again even though she had done yesterday. She was on the floor of the shower with her legs bent in an all manner of ways for her to fit, meticulously doing her knees when a loud bang on the door caused her to jump and slice too deeply.

"You've been in there FOREVER! I NEED TO PEE!" Danny whinged loudly.
"DANIEL, YOU STUPID SACK OF SIBERIAN SHEEP SHIT!" Angela yelled holding her stinging knee as blood mixed with the water and down her leg. She reached up and turned the water off before wrapping her towel around her and yanking open the door. Danny was holding his crotch, jumping from foot to foot and went to protest angrily but Angela put her hand over his face and pushed him backward.

"I'M PISSING OVER YOUR BOOKS NEXT TIME!" he shouted from the bathroom.
"You okay?" Jonathan asked from her bedroom door as she angrily gathered garments of clothes from her floor with one hand and held her towel on with the other.
"Brilliant, Dad," she said sarcastically. "Danny's made me cut my bloody knee."

He chuckled and told her to sit on the bed while he got a band aid. He knelt down on the floor in front of her and applied it gently.
"There," he said satisfied. "Good as new. You won't even see it tonight."
She was still frowning.
"What's wrong, my darling?"
"Nothing," she lied.
"You can talk to me about anything you know that right?"

Angela bit her lip. "Tonight I'm going to be, um, I'm going…"
"Yeah?" her father prompted.
He saw his daughter hesitate and then change her expression. "I'm, um, going to probably stay with Sam tonight…after the party, you know, so don't be worried if I don't come home. We're going to watch movies and things."
Jonathan searched her eyes and then stood up and ruffled her wet hair. "Alright, honey."

Even though Angela felt strangely compelled to tell her father what she was doing tonight just so she could rid herself of the nervous and excited butterflies building in her stomach was probably not the best idea. They'd always had a fortunate close relationship and didn't keep secrets but even they had their limits on certain discussions.

In a different time, she would've been able to ask Eleanor questions about it but their friend status had been revoked. Surprisingly to everyone (and especially herself), Angela had mustered all her self-restraint to not march over to the kissing booth, grab Eleanor by the collar and literally pull her out over the booth and beat her senseless with a bucket of cotton candy but instead decided that Eleanor had clearly suffered enough in her life to have ended up with that royally screwed psyche. Even with this, Eleanor had ignored her polite attempts since hearing she and Patrick were together despite Angela knowing what happened.

So Angela was left to seek advice from Sam when she arrived exactly at one o'clock and set up her workstation in the Ruskin's bathroom. Sam took this as an invitation to give a detailed analysis of her wedding night to Angela who sat in her chair helpless and becoming more and queasier each time Sam brought up Pete's magic hands on her virgin skin.

She craftily changed the subject to what Sam planned on doing today which spun into a lengthy synopsis of what beauty procedures Angela needed to undergo before tonight. Even though it was nothing compared to the sex talk, it still sounded rather terrifying. Angela though she knew a little bit about fashion and beauty. Of course, nothing to the degree of Sam who was easily the classiest and most stylish woman in the carnival. If fashion and beauty were a religion, Sam would be the worshipper at its alter and put together a little shrine with fabric clippings and pictures and say a little beauty prayer every night. Polyester would be her antichrist.

After an hour and forty five minutes in the bathroom being put through all sorts of unusual cruelty, Angela realised that she didn't know anything about beauty or fashion for instance manicures and pedicures were a specific circle of hell that no one bothered to mention in any scripture. Some of the metal tools that Sam kept pulling out of her bag looked more like a device designed to pull brains out through your nose rather than trimming cuticles and curling eyelashes.

Angela also discovered that if Sam asked her opinion on anything, the reply didn't actually matter. Even though Angela had a perfectly lovely pair of flats she found suitable, Sam spent a further twenty five minutes studying the extensive shoe collection (courtesy of her father and grandparents) before telling her to wear the Manolo Blahniks which had just as much impact to Angela as it would've have if she'd said it in Arabic. She also found out that a Manolo Blahnik wasn't a French dessert and it wasn't tasteful to joke about such things to Sam.

Danny watched in satisfaction (revenge for the bathroom incident) as Sam made Angela twirl this way and that in her red dress and the high heels. Angela didn't care what anyone said, high heels were in no way comfortable. They were right up there on the lengthy list of assorted agonies that females had to suffer though, directly between menstrual cramps and giving birth. Angela needed to pee desperately but the response was not dissimilar to if you asked for a potty break in the middle of a military training session.

She scrunched up her face and then relaxed all of her muscles and sighed in relief which achieved Angela's initial goal of freaking Sam out but the revenge came later when Sam refused to help her unzip her dress.

Angela getting caught hopping like a maniac to the bathroom while trying to rip her dress off by her boyfriend, father, brother and various carnival members that some bored demon who found her pain amusing planted in the kitchen for entertainment was not enjoyable. She attempted to slip from the bathroom to the sanctity of her bedroom without incident when Patrick caught her wrists and spun her around into his arms.

"Hey you," he smiled, his eyes dancing with excitement and all of her worries about tonight seemed to disappear in an instant.
"Hi," she said and collapsed on her bed dramatically, muffling her face. He sat down next to her and rubbed circles into her back.
"You're tired, aren't you?" he asked.
"Mmm," she said barely coherently and turned her head so she could see him. Tired didn't begin to cover it.
"You look exhausted, Angel."
"Thanks," she glared sarcastically and he pulled her chin up so she was forced to look into his eyes.
"Did you sleep last night at all?" he asked looking concerned and she shrugged.
"Let me talk to Sam, Angel," he said to her. "You can get some sleep."

Just that idea alone woke Angela up faster than a bucket of cold water and she sat up on her knees beside him.
"No!" she hissed, covering his mouth with her hand and glancing at her door. "Imagine the carnage, the bloodbath! Friend and foe alike would be slaughtered and there would be blood and taffeta everywhere!"

Patrick's chuckle cut across her melodramatic speech and he kissed her forehead and gathered her up in his arms.
"I'm going to be a little late to your party tonight," he murmured against her hair. "I'm helping Pete with the animals and then need I need to go into town to pick something up but I will be there. Just leave your bag with clothes and things on your bed and I'll put it in my car when everyone's at the party."
"Okay," she sighed contently playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. He kissed her lips twice and ran his hands down her smooth legs and tried to stop himself from groaning into her hair and stood up.

"Drive safely," she told him and he let go of her hand. "I love you."
"Always," he smiled. "I love you too. I'll see you tonight."

Patrick was convinced that he wouldn't have even been a minute late to the party if he was able to drive at his regular speed but as pathetic as it sounded, it was damn near impossible to break a promise to Angela. Not to mention, he'd subconsciously been driving with more care than he usually took. Maybe it was because of the wet holiday season making the roads more slippery or maybe it was because he knew he had a damn good reason to live for now.

Predictably, his father had taken off a few days ago. Patrick noticed some not so friendly looking men hanging around his trailer and made sure to take a detour until they were gone. He would've been worried about this and his father's disappearance if it not for his father's money, a small stash of clothes and personal belongings that had also been hastily packed and taken. He knew Angela was more than willing to just stay at his place tonight and of course, it would make the night easier being alone but Patrick felt like this was something that they needed to do away from the carnival and away from anything to do with that life that made her unhappy. Not to mention, he didn't want Angela anywhere near those sorts of people that were looking for his father.

Patrick parked his car, leaving the engine running as he ran over to Angela's window and hoisted himself up and over the ledge and into her room. He landed silently on his feet in her room that she had left well lit for him (although had not left a safe path since he nearly killed himself tripping over he guitar). He rolled his eyes and sighed as he went about picking up things off her floor that she needed and forgot to pack. He unzipped her overnight bag to put in her hairbrush, toothpaste and shoes in when he noticed a blue box of protection sitting on top of her clothing.

He wasn't sure why he felt jittery and nervous. It was not as if he were inexperienced when it came to sex but this felt completely new. There were so many things that could go so horribly wrong or so fantastically right. It made him feel dizzy at the thought of her body being in his arms and rolling around with him in a few mere hours. Either way he knew making love to the reason for his existence was going to change him in some way.

Patrick cleared his head and grabbed her bag to take it back to the car. The loud music was audible as was the tipsy laughter and conversation. He nervously fidgeted with the package he'd carefully wrapped in silver paper decorated with snowflakes (it was impossible to find paper that wasn't festive themed this time of year) when he got out of the car and walked over to the party. There were a lot of people dancing and singing and the liquor was flowing freely.

Danny was giggling and hiccupping in a corner with some of the older carnival kids. Aaron was skulking about with his newest acquisition and Pete and Sam were dancing happily. It didn't take long for him to find her. She was sitting between Jonathan and Jack and gave Jack a hug after receiving his present: a vinyl record of Asleep by The Smiths.

Patrick had to hand it to Sam. He didn't believe it was possible for Angela to look more pretty than usual but she did look exceptionally stunning tonight. He cleared his throat and walked up to them, trying to ignore that his mouth felt like it was full of cotton every time he glanced at her.

"Ah, Patrick," Jonathan said. "Glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to make it…"
He was interrupted by Angela giving him a swift kick to his shin under the table. Patrick had never seen Angela give someone else the look before but he found it's magnificent and terrifying power was just as potent to behold second hand. She looked up and smiled at him and Jack moved over a chair so he could sit down.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said and kissed her cheek quickly. He heard Jack and Jonathan leave the table with a whoosh. "Are you having a good night?"
"It's been good," she smiled and he noticed that her cheeks were rather red.
"How much have you had?" he laughed and inspected her champagne flute.
"This is my third," she said with a distasteful look. "It kind of tastes like lemonade. If you had left it out in the sun for a few days and a goat pissed in it. But it was a present so I'm trying to make a solid effort of it. If you put strawberries in it, it doesn't taste as bad."
He knew she was nervous because she was talking fast and fiddling with things.

Patrick placed the small box on the table in front of her. "I know its a few hours early," he said. "But I think you've suffered enough as a Christmas baby."
Angela could feel her father's eyes boring into her forehead as she unwrapped it and heard him hiss: "What is it? How small was the box? What did he give her? What is it?" to Sam who was holding Jonathan by the ear so he couldn't dare ruin anything for her. There was a tiny square card tied to the top of the jewellery box and she opened it and read: You make my life wonderful.

Angela wrinkled her nose at him trying to ignore her cheeks getting steadily redder and warmer. She opened the box and inside was a simple silver bracelet with a charm in the shape of the moon linked onto it. "The moon," she said gently touching it.
He shrugged. "Well, it seemed to work for George."
She kissed him on the cheek quickly and gently punched his shoulder for good measure to distract herself from the tears that were pricking at her eyes.

Patrick gently attached the bracelet to her wrist as if she were made of china and kissed her palm before taking her hand and pulling her reluctantly to where everyone was dancing. It seemed customary that she had to dance with everyone and somewhere during Come on Eileen with Pete did her ankles nearly give way in the painful contraptions she was wearing. Danny, who she assumed stumbled over tipsily to tease her, pressed a pair of her flats into her hand.

"I brought this from home, you know, for just in case…"
Angela slipped them onto her feet and held onto Danny's shoulder for balance and kissed his forehead. "I love you, my darling brother. I knew you loved me too."
He escaped her grip with a disgusted expression. "You walk like a Tyrannosaurus Rex in those things. I just didn't want to be associated with the girl who destroyed the carnival with nothing but a pair of high heels."
"Lighten up, dummy," she teased and pulled him into a hug which he returned for a millisecond before wrestling away from her again but he left with a smile on his face.

Jonathan started transporting Angela's presents back to their home as the party started to dwindle. Sam, Pete and Patrick were clearing up some of the beer bottles while Angela nursed Danny who had passed out on a stack of hay. Jonathan came over and picked Danny up and put him in the car.

"Are you nearly ready to leave?" Patrick whispered to Angela and kissed her ear to which she felt her knees buckle slightly. She nodded and looked over to where Sam was talking to Jonathan, obviously corroborating her story of staying there, before giving them a thumbs-up. Patrick kissed her forehead and told her that he would bring his car around.

Angela felt her legs turn to jelly and the butterflies return as she picked up her handbag and jumped slightly as her father grabbed her arm softly.

"Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure," she said, hoping her voice didn't shake much as they walked. He was silent for a moment but had a pained and awkward expression on his face before he turned to talk to her.

"I love you, baby, but you can't lie to save your life. I know you're not staying with Sam tonight."
Angela went to open her mouth but Jonathan put his finger to her lips.
"I know you're going with Patrick tonight and although I'm trying to pretend otherwise, I'm well aware of what that means. And I know you well enough to know better than to try and stop you when you've got your mind set and you're an adult now so you can make your own decisions. So, I put a box of condoms in your overnight bag…"
"Dad, oh my god," Angela moaned, closing her eyes and wishing the ground would disappear beneath her.
"I'm being serious, Angela," Jonathan said with an uncharacteristically serious expression. It's not embarrassing, it's important. I can't stop you from doing what you want at this age but I can make sure you're being careful about it."
She tried nodding because she was certain she would throw up over his shoes if she opened her mouth. It was that mortifying but she couldn't help but feel a bit of relief that her father knew and cared that much about her.
"I've also put a cell phone in there too and I want you to call me if you need me to come pick you up at any time of the night. And I mean any time of the night, Evangeline, don't even hesitate. My phone will be in my hand until you get home."
"Thanks, Dad," she said feeling an unusual lump in her throat as he pulled her into a hug which seemed to the longest one she could remember.
"Love you kiddo," he said and ruffled her hair before going back to drive Danny safely home.

Patrick was exactly where he said he would meet her when she arrived and he took her hand. They were silent for a while as Angela tried to gather her thoughts. Patrick was nervous as well but knew as soon as her small hand slipped into his that there was nothing more natural in the world than them being together.

"Balloons," she said thoughtfully and kicked one that was in her path. "They're strange aren't they?"
"Umm…"
"Happy Birthday, here's a plastic sack of my breath," she laughed nervously and wished she could stop saying stupid things when she was nervous.
Patrick chuckled as he opened the door for her and got in on the other side.

"Am I allowed to know where we are going yet?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.
"You haven't been to Kansas since you were a toddler, Angel," he laughed and turned the radio down. "Even if I told you, which I'm not, it wouldn't mean anything to you."
She frowned but couldn't maintain it for very long as the lights of the city lit up her windows. She was so fascinated by how beautiful it all was that she didn't even chastise Patrick for staring at her and not paying attention to the road.

"I love you," he told her and kissed her hand.
"You better," she smiled, still looking out her window. "I shaved my legs twice for you."
"I don't know what that means."
"It means I love you as well, dummy."

So I'm going to try my hand at smut in the next chapter. I apologise in advance. Stay tuned beautiful people.