The Monkeys Is Coming

Acepilot

AN - No.8 in the "Road" series. Lighthearted - positive-minded - fluff. James is Tommy and Lil's kid (see Waiting Rooms) and Amanda is Dil's girlfriend (see most of the rest of the series). There's no particular point to this fic, I just needed to write something happy. The "and yes" thing will be understood by those of you who read "Road Trip". And - yes, I know, a lot of notes - the title is borrowed from "The Rugrats Movie".

Dedication - There's a weird kind of euphoria that comes over you watching cartoons. I watched The Rugrats Movie for the first time in a couple of years this morning, and the whole time I had butterflies in my stomach - the same stuff that made me giggle uncontrollably when I was younger, the same stuff that touched me then, still works now. And I might be a bit of a loser for watching Rugrats when I should be studying for my exams, but for an hour or two there, the fact that my life was falling to pieces around me had no relevance to me whatsoever. So this one goes out to all those who bring us the magic of animated silliness on a regular basis - most particularly Arlene Klasky and Gabor Csupo. You make the world a better place.

Disclaimer - All characters (except for Amanda and James) are property of KlaskyCsupo and Nickelodeon. The plot was mine.

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Some things never change.

"I hate the circus."

I don't bother resisting the urge to chuckle as Angelica slaps her boyfriend across the wrist. "Shut up, Finster. This is James' first time at the circus, don't mope about it.

"I just don't see why we had to come," Chuckie insists, still not sounding at all happy about the whole situation.

"We were invited," Angelica hisses in his ear, "now be quiet and watch the show."

Kimmi rests her head on my shoulder. "They're worth the price of admission alone," she whispers.

I rest my head on hers. "We can get that for free."

"Don't you start, too," Dil mutters from my other side.

I don't bother turning to face him. Kimmi is too comfortable to move from. "I'm not, I'm not."

"Good," Dil says. "I always liked circuses. Except for the monkeys. Never could stand monkeys."

My sister stifles a laugh from the row in front of us, and Tommy is suddenly racked with silent laughter.

Kimmi observes them both for a second, then looks at me quizzically.

"I'll explain later," I promise, eyeing Dil edgily.

I never much liked the circus myself. Never really got the point. You see a bunch of people do tricks, you see a bunch of animals do tricks. The actual entertainment value is limited.

But I wouldn't have missed this event for the world.

Partially because it's a part of James' experience of the world. My ten-month-old nephew is sitting on Amanda's lap, gooing quietly and excitedly at the sight of the lights on the big-top, fascinated by the music being piped over the speakers while we all wait for the circus to start. It sounds silly, but I want to be there for my nephew, to be the good uncle - the one he turns to when he's looking for advice about girls and stuff. When he wants to run away from home, I want him to try and come to me and Kimmi.

Dil and I have a quiet wager going.

I love my nephew, and I'm looking forward to having kids with the delightful girl who is very-nearly my wife, who is presently tucked under my arm, thinking about anything and everything, her mind moving at the speed-of-light like it normally does, probably.

Or maybe she's just letting the atmosphere soak over her, and enjoying herself. Like we all deserve to.

I'm not here for the show. I'm not just here for James, though, either. I'm also here for the memories.

Childhood is this really elusive thing, and I'll admit to missing it. Missing the days when my sister and I were inseparable, or the times when Tommy and Kimmi came up with one stupid stunt after another.

I don't miss the hospital so much, but the ambulance rides were fun. Chuckie probably has a different opinion on that.

This little excursion is a breeding ground for memories. I hope that James has these kinds of memories to look back on. Good times, friends, loved ones.

The lights dim and the show starts. Amanda passes James to his father, and I find myself watching the baby in Tommy's arms than I am the show.

I want kids, I think.

I think Kimmi does, too. We haven't talked about it for nearly ten months now, not since that night in the waiting room. But hopefully she hasn't changed her mind.

"Nickel for your thoughts?" Kimmi whispers. She's been watching me.

"I want kids," I tell her quietly, not taking my eyes off James, watching the excitement play across his face in the coloured lights.

"I do, too," she says, and snuggles deeper into my shoulder. "I want to get married, and I want to have kids, and I want to live a life with you, and our family."

I pull her closer. "I love you."

"I love you too. And yes."

I can't help but laugh out loud at that, and thankfully it coincides with the clowns coming out.

There's a quiet wail to the other side of Kimmi, which earns an additional chuckle from our entire party. Angelica most of all.

"It's not funny," Chuckie quietly hisses, his knuckles going white from gripping the arms of his chair.

The blonde kisses him on the cheek. "It is, Finster."

He glares at her, but she bats her eyelashes and he's putty in her hands.

I would have made some sarcastic remark if it weren't for the fact that Kimmi and I work exactly the same way. She just has to flash me one smile and I'm helpless before her.

"Gee, Chuck," Dil calls over me and Kimmi, mostly drowned out by the laughs of the people around us, "Angelica finally found someone she can charm the pants off. Literally."

While Kimmi and Tommy let out loud "eewws!" at that, Chuckie merely leans over his sister to say to Dil, "Watch out, Dil. The monkeys are coming next."

Dil glares at him and Amanda cracks up into hysterics.

I'm with my family and friends, at the circus, showing my nephew the world.

I can't think of a single place I'd rather be.

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really a personal fic, rather than something I'm expecting a great response on. but I'd love feedback anyway.