Chapter Text
It started as an average day for Chris Pearson. It was Saturday, the start of the weekend, which meant Elise was on call for work and could sleep in with him. Chris liked it when he would wake up next to a warm body, his wife’s arms wrapped around him. To most people it might seem strange that such a big man as himself enjoyed being the little spoon . But, well … they never had the comfort of having her toned muscled frame nestled against them-- all the while feeling safe from troubles.
And Chris hoped they never would.
Upon waking was his favorite meal of the day: breakfast. (Not that he didn’t like the others, mind you.) Elise always made a big breakfast on the weekend. It was her way of buttering him up-- literally, as she lathered a thick clump onto the top of his pancakes -- into doing household chores for the rest of the morning.
She didn’t need to know that her husband would have done it either way… But, well, he DID like the tradition. No harm in keeping that a secret, really.
It was well past noon when the both of them had finished, and Chris plopped onto the living-room couch, completely spent.
“Oh, thank goodness we’re done. I don’t think I can move anymore.” Chris paused, a look of horror on his face as something occurred to him. Looking at his wife, with big pleading eyes, he carried on. “We… We ARE done, aren’t we? Please tell me we don’t have to leave the couch…”
Elise smiled, nestling in closer to the pathetic lump of a man next to her, as she placed a kiss on his cheek.
“We don’t have to leave the couch.” She confirmed. “In fact, we have the rest of the afternoon free to relax, maybe catch up on our shows?”
This was said with a wag of the remote, and Chris couldn’t help but return her beam-- gratitude ever present in his eyes.
“ You had me at ‘we don’t have to leave the couch’ .”
Fate, however, had different plans as loud banging startled the two from their peace. The show had hardly started, when the familiar yelling of demands could be heard from the other side of the door.
“Chris! Chris, open up, you indolent ignoramus ! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your phone on at all times? I have NEEDS, you know!”
Chris sighed, slumping deeper into the cushions in defeat.
“ So much for not moving… ”
It had been Elise who opened the door, the simple ‘Hello Dan’ of disdain ignored as he pushed his way inside the home. The taller man greeted his friend, this one more genuine as his expression lit up.
“Hi Dan, wanna watch tv with us? We’re streaming ‘Gullet Bowel’-- and it’s the semi finals.”
“I thought we weaned you off the teet of that trash.” Dan said with a glare, almost not believing what he was hearing. “I wouldn’t watch that show with you even if I was lobotomized against my will!”
“You could have just said, ‘no’,” Chris grumbled. This, of course, was paid no attention to as the shorter man went on.
“ And furthermore , we don’t have time for that! This isn’t a social call, we have work to do. Grab your keys, Chris, we’re heading to the carnival.”
At this Chris found a childish joy strike him as he sat up in his seat.
“We are ?” He turned to his wife. “Is it okay if I go?”
“Why are you asking HER for?” Dan griped. Elise threw him a glare, before smiling back at her husband.
“What happened to you not moving?”
“It’s Silly Symphonies, Elise. They come into town for only one week every summer. And… usually I’m too busy to go. ”
This was said with a slight flick of his eyes at his best friend, who was standing there looking annoyed at the fact this whole exchange was even taking place. Elise, naturally, caught on to this as she placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“Go ahead, you boys have fun. I have a book I’ve been meaning to get around to, anyway.”
Chris had given his wife a peck on the cheek, leaping from the couch as he ran towards the door-- mentions of corn dogs, funnel cake, and deep fried oreos spilling from him as he jogged towards the car.
It was once on the driveway that the truth of the matter made itself known.
“And don’t worry, I thought ahead and packed your clown costume.” Dan informed him as he climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.
“Clown costume...?” Chris’ smile fell and he glanced up into his rear view mirror to see the duffel bag sitting in his back seat.
“And luckily I still had about a dozen of those grenades left over from that birthday party last week, but we’ll need to stop by Wally’s and pick up the flamethrowers.”
“Flamethrowers?! Dan what--”
“I figured I’d take care of the holy water after we get there. Do you think we’ll need rope?”
Chris’ fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his eye twitched as he stared at the front door of his house. He should have known this wasn’t just a friendly fun filled trip to the carnival. But he didn’t have to go. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions. It would be easy to just say no, get out of his car, take the keys with him, go back inside, and refuse to leave the couch again until it was time to go to bed.
Chris let out a loud, defeated sigh and slumped, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car.
“Alright, Dan, what happened?” He asked, begrudgingly. “Who wronged you this time?”
“I would hardly call them PEOPLE, Chris. They’re monsters! Creatures of deceit and lies who can’t be trusted, trying to lure in the innocence of youth.”
The man at the wheel of the car gave his friend a sideways glance as he ventured a guess.
“The people who run the carnival games?”
“No,” Dan shook his head, “but they’ll get theirs’ too. I’m talking about the true sinners of the carnies: CLOWNS.”
Chris blinked wildly, doing a double take as he fully took his eyes off the road.
“ Clowns? ” He asked incredulously. “What do you even have against them, anyway? I thought you LIKED clowns.”
The shorter man glowered at his stooge. Chris couldn’t help but feel like it carried its weight in insults. Luckily Dan didn’t feel the need to actually say them.
“I like jesters .” Dan clarified. “The fool archetype is a classic form of comedy, and I happened to be very fond of the idea of someone tailoring their comedy to fit their patrons. Clowns, however, are chaotic cretins just looking for any opportune moment to blast you with club soda or throw a pie in your face. Pulling down your shorts as they laugh and bear witness to your private shame. GAH! I HATE those guys! I've been humiliated , Chris, and I won't STAND for it!"
" Well it's a good thing you're sitting then ." Chris snarked, feeling the dread of what was to come already weighing down on him.
Dan wasn’t amused.
“No one asked for sass, you know. Shut up and keep your eyes on the road. As much fun as it is to see you take down cyclists, we don’t have time for games today. We need to infiltrate the ranks, have you take notes for evidence.”
“Evidence? Of WHAT?” Having followed what Dan demanded of him, he had to fight the urge to look back at his friend. Still, his question held the air of exasperation. Dan was just as exasperated as he yelled back.
“ Of their cult activity, of course! I’ve been on to Silly Symphonies for years now, tracking their every movement. Every town they go to? What do you think HAPPENS, Chris?”
“People enjoy themselves?”
“No! They go MISSING! The paper trail is a mile wide, any idiot with half a brain could have tracked it.”
“ And you picked up on it, then? ” Chris said with amusement, feeling pleased with his own joke. He wasn’t as pleased when a moment later he was punched hard in the arm.
“OW! Hey! ”
“You insult my intelligence, Chris, I assault your being.”
Dan finished this with leaning back in his seat, arms crossed against his person in agitation. Silence hung in the air for a few moments, becoming too thick and heavy for Chris’ liking. Tapping his hands on the steering wheel, he gave in to his anxiety as he placated his clearly insane best bud.
“... You don’t REALLY think they’re clown cultists, do you?”
"That, or they're from outer space.” Dan said with a shrug. “All that matters is that they're EVIL! They MUST be stopped; not just for me . But for the good of everybody !"
“Yup, Dan, once again the fate of the entire world rests in your capable hands.” Chris replied flatly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Can the sarcasm, Chuckles, you won’t be laughing when those cannibalistic creeps have you spit-roasted over an open fire. You’ll be wishing for these capable hands then.”
“I thought you said they were cultists, they’re cannibals now ?”
“They could be both!” Dan snapped, glaring shortly before averting his attention out of his side window. “My theory is they eat the ones they don’t brainwash into becoming one of them. Now, I was thinking--”
But Chris didn’t hear what Dan was thinking, his words quickly becoming background noise as Chris sunk into a state of agitated melancholy. Only months before he’d discovered his best friend had been harboring romantic feelings toward him ever since high school, and since then nothing had changed in the slightest . And for Dan, why should it? Nothing had changed on the Dan side of the equation. Dan was still living the life of a man in love with his best friend, sitting comfortably with the obvious unrequited affections, like he always had.
No, the problem was Chris was not nearly as skilled in the art of ignorant denial as Dan was. He was expected to just go on with life, acting as if nothing had changed, when discovering your best friend occasionally thought about making out with you or cuddling up to you in the late night hours, or-- well. It changed a lot of things.
A part of him couldn’t help but wish Dan had let them discuss the matter over at the time of the discovery. To… to have cleared the air, to know where they both truly stood on all things. Chris’ stomach suddenly sunk as he recalled the feelings he had experienced thanks to Imposter Dan’s paranormal involvement. How much his friend was expecting the day he would abandon him, thrown to the curb like the unused exercise equipment Elise’s parents had gifted him for Christmas. He could recall the shame and self-loathing, submerged deep down in Dan’s subconscious. And, worst of all, the fear. Of having this someday come to light, and either of the married pair taking out revenge for the betrayal.
If they had talked things over, like the mature adults they were both supposed to be … Maybe he could have comforted Dan and told him he would forever be his best friend no matter who he loved.
‘Although,’ Chris thought with a frown, ‘I would say I’m not a fan of finding out he was attracted to COLBY , of all people. Could have lived a lifetime without knowing THAT , thanks!’
Chris was startled out of his introspection by the sudden jolt of the car, finding Dan’s hands on the steering wheel.
“What are you trying to do, kill us?! ”
“ No ,” Dan argued back, “I was TRYING to turn the car around. You drove right past Wally’s! C’mon!”
“ Oh .” The taller man was stunned, looking around to finally take in their surroundings. Just how long had he been out of it? Looking abashed, Chris apologized. “Sorry. I… guess I zoned out a little.”
“ You think ?!” Dan yelled back, causing Chris to flinch slightly at the volume. Dan had never quite mastered how to use his inside voice. “I’ll bet you didn’t hear a single word about my plan.”
“Ah no, I didn’t, actually.” Chris admitted, throwing the grown man sulking in his passenger seat a guilty look. They pulled into the parking lot of Wally's Emporium of Hardware and Explosives and parked.
“Would you mind repeating it, by any chance?”
Dan turned to Chris with a contemptuous glare and said nothing, eye contact established and the challenge set. Chris found that Dan was like a wild animal in some ways, one of them being that breaking eye contact with him was to admit inferiority and submission. Chris retained contact, but instead of glaring back as he normally might, Chris retaliated with a genuinely apologetic look. He threw in a slow, lopsided smile.
“Please?”
The effect this had was unexpected to say the least. Something else flashed behind Dan’s glare, brief and unreadable, a split second before he averted his eyes and turned away to reach for the car door handle.
“Fine.” Dan mumbled. “You’re lucky I need you for this. Now try staying on this plane of existence for five minutes this time because I will not be repeating myself a third time!”
Dan Mandel hadn’t needed to repeat himself for a third time, though while Chris had HEARD every word the shorter man said… he still didn’t think he completely understood . Or at least, he understood what was wanted from him-- just not why he was going through with Dan’s crazy plan at all . It was ‘ relatively simple ’ (Dan’s words, not his.): dress up in his clown costume, infiltrate their inner circle as one of their own, pretending to be one of the new workers. And of course he was supposed to report back to Dan whenever he popped up, share his findings.
You know, the ones he would totally find about the existence of potentially cannibalistic clown cults.
They had pulled up to the parking lot of the carnival sometime a couple hours later. Silly Symphonies had a habit of renting the same space every year-- a plot of land that at some point had belonged to farmers of the rural area. That was, until they absorbed all possible nutrients from the soil-- making it completely unusable for the job. It was thanks to the bank, the owners of the land, that it even had the meager tufts of bermudagrass that miraculously resided there. And when it wasn’t rented out to the carnival, it was used for family reunions, weddings, and of course the return of the renaissance fair every fall.
Chris, already out of the car, flinched as Dan slammed the passenger’s side door. He didn’t have time to let his racing heart settle, before he was pelted in the face by Dan’s duffel bag.
“Alright, Chris; it’s showtime. Go on, get dressed.”
“This is humiliating ,” the taller man whined, “can you at the very least keep lookout?”
“What, afraid I’m going to see your unmentionables ? ” Dan snarked back, more defensive than usual. “I’ve known you since we were, what? Eight? I’ve seen you in a SPEEDO, for cripes sake!”
Chris glared, as he was equally defensive.
“ I don’t care if you see me take my pants off, Dan ,” Chris whispered yelled, “it’s children I’m worried about!”
All anger from Dan instantly vanished, as he had a look that said he hadn’t thought about that. Chris would have laughed at what a contrast it was from his anger earlier… that was, if he wasn’t frustrated and about to have his cargo pants drop from his waist at any moment.
Finally Dan nodded his head, breaking the silence.
“You know, you may have a point. We wouldn’t want anyone calling the cops.” It was then that he turned around, arms crossed as he leaned against the trunk of Chris’ car. “Alright, I’m on lookout. Just hurry up already, wouldja? We haven’t got all day!”
The surprising part was… Dan’s plan seemed to be working . Apparently the place had no security, and most normal people didn’t think about just walking inside dressed in big shoes and wearing the saddest clown makeup imaginable. Like a duck to water, Chris had done the only logical thing he could think of: he saw a troop of clowns and simply just followed them to a small tent they were congregating in. It was then that he was handed a handful of balloons in every color of the rainbow, and told to walk the grounds.
“Oh, and DO try to smile a bit, would you?”
Chris had been at this for half the day-- the sun already beginning to set. While he was never a fan of when he was forced to wear disguises, he could honestly say this was one of their more peaceful capers. Handing out balloons, walking around and taking in the nice day, and chatting with a few of the others clowns while on break near the concessions stands. Sometimes Chris could even convince himself he wasn’t in the middle of a Dan scheme at all!
Whatever jovial mood he was in slipped some, however, when his eyes caught sight of one of the attractions. It was one of the larger buildings-- although the house of mirrors won contender for being the largest. Paint slightly chipping, the colors having long since been bleached by the summer sun, it was still legible as it read: ‘ Tunnel of Love ’.
Chris found himself stopping in his tracks, as he stared-- a sense of sadness washing over him like the water pumping from the hose that kept the ride circulating. Once more he couldn’t help but think of Dan, and the numerous nightmares that centered around THAT location. The pain. The near drowning as his friend was shoved face first into all his repressed emotions. The way Dan’s hands had tugged on his hair as they clashed together in the suffocating darkness-
“Wait, what?” Chris uttered aloud, bringing himself back to reality. That… last part had been a bit awkward. It was strange how real it all felt, despite the fact it hadn’t been his dream in the first place. How he could remember the sensations, bringing back foggy drunken memories from their last year of high school.
They shouldn’t have been drinking, he knew that. He had always known that. Yet, just like present day, he had trouble telling Dan ‘no’-- be it from a sense of obligation or his trouble with boundaries. So they drank, staring off the edge of Felix Sanches’ cliffside. (The same spot where they had nearly fought to the death, now that Chris thought about it.) Just them, yelling out all the pent up anger they had as rowdy teens. How the system was unfair. The challenges and pressures put on them. And of course Dan had his list to remind him of every petty slight against him.
As the night went on, and the more they drank the cheapest beer they could get their hands on… the rest became a blur.
But the dream… it made him think of that night, and the fact his mind may have been drawing from past experiences .
Despite it all, and the confusing feelings that were left lingering inside him, Chris couldn’t help but think of his wife. The woman he loved. Yet again he felt his inside contort with that growing familiar sense of guilt and grief.
Chris sighed, gloved hand resting against his painted forehead as he grumbled his frustrations.
“ I swear, if it weren’t for the fact he was dead, I might consider killing the guy… ”
“Killing WHO, now?”
Chris made an unflattering, strangled yelping noise at the sudden intrusion to his thoughts, recoiling from the guy who he swore hadn’t been there a moment before.
“Dan! Don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack-- is that a corn dog?”
Chris was immediately distracted by the fact Dan was holding a steaming corn dog in each hand.
“That’s what the vendor said, but take anything these con artists and yokels say with a grain of salt ... and maybe some form of antacid. ” Dan replied, handing one of them out to Chris.
“And by the way, hold off on your murderous rampage until we’re sure these guys aren’t human. I mean I know they’re not, but we need evidence that’ll hold up in a court of law. ... Are you crying ?”
“I was so hungry. ” Chris whimpered as he chewed the delicious carnival treat. Dan glanced down at his own before handing that one over to Chris, too.
“Well, here then, you insatiable glutton; they’re probably made out of people meat, anyway.”
“Please don’t say that ... don’t ruin corn dogs for me...” Chris let go of the single red balloon he had left to grab for the other corn dog, instead. Dan watched as it drifted away, bouncing off the side of the tunnel of love building, and he shuddered.
“Brr, that place gives me the creeps.” He reached up to grab Chris’ puffy sleeve, tugging him in the opposite direction, and Chris didn’t fight this in the slightest as he happily munched on his late lunch.
“So? Speaking of evidence, what did you find out? And don’t leave out a single gory detail, I want it all.”
“Mmm, well ,” Chris began in between bites, eyes looking upward as he tried to recall everything he had learned today. “Miriam, an older woman, says she has been with the carnival since its conception as a child. Apparently started by excommunicated Amish people.”
Dan groaned, looking annoyed.
“Ugh, Amish . They’re nearly as bad.”
“As bad as cannibal clown cultists?” Chris asked, incredulously.
“As bad as any other cockamamie religious communities, yes. ” Dan muttered with finality, waving his hand as if to dismiss the discussion altogether. “Now go on, what else did you find out?”
“That’s about it, in regards to history. Just that mostly it’s been stuck within the original families. Outside of a few people they’ve picked up along the way.” Chris smiled. “Robert invited me to the babyshower they’re throwing for his wife. He seems nice.”
“ Robert? ” Dan seemed peeved by this, for reasons unknown to the taller man. “What kind of clown name is ‘Robert’? What’s funny about THAT?”
“You… DO know they have actual names, right ? You can’t put ‘Dumplings the Clown’ on a birth certificate.”
Chris’ rebuttal, quite naturally, went ignored as his friend threw his arms into the air in aggravation.
“So you’ve been here all day and found out NOTHING !” Dan turned around, arms crossed and finger to his lip as he thought over his next actions. “It’s my fault, really, sending in a Chris to do a Dan’s job. ”
“You… KNOW I can hear you, right?” Chris asked, annoyed.
“No you can’t, shut up. ” Dan turned back around, eyes lit in resolve. “Okay, here’s the new plan. You keep on being useless while I go snoop around. If they have skeletons in their closet, then I’ll be sure to find them.”
Chris blinked a few times, processing what was said.
“You… do mean that figuratively, don’t you?”
Dan shrugged.
“ Who can say with cultists . People ARE missing, after all.”
And it was with this final thought that the shorter man walked away, getting lost to the twilight crowd. Despite the fact everything about this whole day had been as ridiculous as the very costume Chris was wearing… he couldn’t help but feel worried.
Whether it was for Dan or the carnival, WELL… he couldn’t say.