Tag: timmy turner

Cross-Post: Triangles and Other Three Sided Things

jacksgreysonLeave a comment

original here. dated 2011-11-04

~

They’re not really sure when it started. Well, no, that’s a lie. All of them are sure about when they think it started, but none of them agree:

Timmy says it was that Friday the 13th dance all those years ago; “we were dancing together—and Cindy even admits she went to the dance with both of us.”

“She went to the dance with both of us, yes, and she was both of our dates, but we didn’t go to the dance with each other.”

“Actually, Neutron, since we all arrived at the dance at the same time and from the same place together, we all three did, in fact, go to the dance with each other.”

“Haha! See, I am so right! Take that, boy genius!”

“Oh, Timmy, you really aren’t.”

Cindy thinks that that’s far too early—they were just kids, they didn’t really know anything back then, boy genius aside. “If it had any specific beginning,” she argues, “it was in high school.”

“What?”

“No, no, now you’re too early. You were my girlfriend in high school.”

“Only because Timmy was still living in his old dimension—”

“Then how would it have started in high school?”

“Let me finish! Only because Timmy was still living in his old dimension and you know how high school is, peer pressure and all that. And plus, the two of you were still shy—it took you forever to kiss.”

“Well, that just proves my point then, Vortex.”

Jimmy knows it didn’t really start until even further after that, it was definitely in college.

“Look, the facts don’t lie, it can’t have started before Timmy came to live in this dimension. And like you said, high school wasn’t really the best place to foster any kind of relationship that didn’t match the accepted social norms. We couldn’t really accept ourselves a-as a… as a…”

“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ménage à trois, Neutron.”

“I can’t believe he still stutters at that. Just call it a threesome, no need for fancy words. But it’s okay, I love both of you for your bodies, not your minds… nerdy babes, the things I put up with.”

At this point in the disagreement, they lose their train of thought or get distracted by other topics or end up in a bit of roughhousing that turns a lot friendlier. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, rehashing the same things over and over, so it’s easy to drop it. Because what really matters isn’t when it started, this relationship of theirs, only that it exists.

~

College was fraught with a lot of surprises. Mostly the fact that he even went to college. Timmy that is. To be honest, with all of the poor schooling and sadistic teachers and limited attention span, he’s still kind of surprised to have even graduated from elementary school let alone high school. And no one really expected him to continue on to higher education. Least of all himself.

Actually… no one really expected him to do anything with his life. (Why does that seem wrong to him, somehow? He feels like there was someone, maybe two someones, who cared about him. But why wouldn’t he be able to remember them then?)

… Well, no one in his old dimension anyway.

What are you going to do now? Will you be going to college? Why don’t you live in this dimension? Wouldn’t you like to come with us? What are you going to do now?

They had asked. And he had answered. Through the inter-dimensional portal he went. (None of them can remember what inspired Jimmy to invent the inter-dimensional portal, they’re pretty sure that Timmy came through first but they’re not too sure how that would have happened.)

He had only two sets of clothes and his favorite comic books in his backpack, money not working across different dimensions and not really having much else of value. (He had considered bringing his goldfish bowl, even if there were no more goldfish in it and he wasn’t sure why. He had gone back to get it when the three of them finally got a place of their own. Cindy always asks why they don’t get some fish for it, but he feels like it just wouldn’t be the same.) And he had gotten used to living without much stuff, his parents constantly forgetting his existence and Vicky destroying most of what he did have.

He wouldn’t really have been prepared for college even with more stuff. He’s still not actually sure how he got accepted, though it he thinks it might have to do with Jimmy giving him credit on some inventions—he hadn’t actually done any of the science-y stuff, but he had come up with the ideas, and no college is going to say no James Isaac Neutron—and maybe with Cindy’s family’s connections—and practically nothing on Earth is going to say no to Cynthia Aurora Vortex. [It’s actually neither, the school wanted the honor of having the first inter-dimensional student, regardless of how mediocre his application was.]

But he did get accepted into college. Even if he did struggle in introductory general education classes and hop from major to major with no clear idea of what he wanted to do. Even as his friends blazed ahead: Cindy getting a heady combination of degrees in business, political science, and biochemistry and Jimmy dominating all levels of the engineering department like he had been born to do so.

And at some point, Timmy, being one of the few people not driven off by the constant inventing and in desperate need of a place to stay [though that’s not at all why Jimmy chose to do all of his noisy tinkering in the middle night while his previous roommates were trying to sleep. Not. At. All.] moved into Jimmy’s apartment. And at some point after that, Cindy, already practically living with them—eating, studying, sleeping, even bathing there—officially moved in, bringing whatever hadn’t already migrated it’s way there.

It confused the hell out of their peers and professors. But that didn’t matter at all.

~

Money is… kind of not an issue for them. Definitely not for her, and surprisingly not for him either. Jimmy that is. Sure, his brain’s wired almost exclusively for science, but he’s not a total idiot when it comes to finances. It’s just simple arithmetic. But anyway, the point is that he knows how to handle money—the resources for his inventions don’t just pop out of thin air and there’s more to engineering than just making things. He had to get his inventions out in the market somehow, and it’s not like he’s going to let Cindy handle all of their business and financial needs [Jimmy has to at least pretend like he’s still got some pride, even though Cindy and Timmy know the truth.]

But money is not an issue for them. They work because they want to and because, honestly, they’d be horrifically bored otherwise. They do still have the tendency to go on crazy adventures, or maybe stop the occasional menace, but it’s not like they’re superheroes or anything [though there was that one Halloween…]

Cindy alternates her time between her family’s company [Vortex Incorporated has a hand in almost everything from televisions to sports equipment to pharmaceuticals to you name it] and being an associate of the law firm Manson Pataki & Sanchez [the three managing partners are very impressive and inspirational ladies, and are noticing her work ethic]. Her boys aren’t all that sure how she does it, but they do make sure she gets enough rest and relaxation.

Timmy is an elementary school teacher and counselor. He’s very good at his job. His students love him and it’s educational and fun in a way school never was for him. He gets to be a child again, and he missed that (he really does and it seems like more than just nostalgia). He also writes children’s books about magic, to his scientifically-inclined lovers’ despair, about kids with fairy godparents. (He knows that it’s all his imagination, but it doesn’t always feel that way).

Jimmy comes up with some new invention every once in a while and passes it off to the R&D department of whichever company he’s showing off to [usually a certain Vortex Inc, because it’s more fun that way]. If they can reverse engineer it he lets them mass produce it as long as he gets a percentage of the profits; if they can’t he gets to play around with whatever they have in their labs [because not even he can think of everything, but either way it is a win-win situation].

So, yeah. Money isn’t a problem. They can afford the occasional sick-leave-that-really-isn’t and they use that time to maintain what really matters, even if it’s just the three of them all being at home at the same time or even some distant locales like desert islands or outer space. It works.

Untitled (2015-01-25)

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You are in the middle of painting your nails when the twins burst into your room. All of you freeze, staring at each other with matching wide eyes.

All of a sudden you can hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears. Tammy makes quick, assessing glances at you in your undershirt and boxers, at the bed where your outfit is laid out, at your open messy closet. Tommy, always behind his sister, peeks shyly over her shoulder bouncing between your face and the bottle of nail polish in your hands.

You can feel the burn of shame crawling it’s way up your face, this was stupid. Why didn’t you lock the door? (You never lock the door, you always want your kids to have access to you). This was worse than stupid, this was wrong. So wrong.

“DAD!” Tammy yells–for the past few months, Tammy has stopped saying things when she has the option to scream it loudly instead–finally coming closer. “OH MY GOD, DAD!” She yells again, before glaring, as expected, at the dress on your bed.

You are bracing yourself for the stinging blow of rejection.

“BROWN HORIZONTAL STRIPES! THAT’S TERRIBLE! WE LOOK TERRIBLE IN BROWN, DAD! AND HORIZONTAL STRIPES ARE EVEN WORSE!” She stomps towards your closet, burrowing herself into the mess towards the furthest corners. “I KNOW YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER IN HERE. THAT NICE PASTEL FLORAL ONE,” Her voice, though muffled is still clearly audible.

Tommy, a silent shadow in comparison to his sister, but no pushover, has sidled up towards you. He’s already taken the nail polish bottle out of your shaking hands and with practiced neatness, paints the fingernails on your right hand which had been giving you trouble. He smiles gently at you, noting the sheer bewilderment on your face, and pats your bicep.

“PAISLEY! NOTHING AND NO ONE LOOKS GOOD IN PAISLEY! NEXT TIME YOU GO DRESS SHOPPING I’M COMING WITH YOU!” Tammy’s voice makes it’s way out of the closet.

“We saw them when we were playing hide and seek one time,” Tommy explains, still calmly painting coats of pink on your nails. It’s lighter than the shade of your favorite tie, “She said the same thing the first time she saw them, too.”

You’re trying really hard not to cry. Because all the worry and secrecy of the past few weeks, all of it had apparently been for nothing. Your kids don’t hate you, they don’t see you as wrong or sick. They still see their Dad, albeit a Dad who likes to dress up and needs help doing so.

Tammy strides out of the closet triumphantly, the pastel floral dress waving on the hanger like a flag. It’s the one that you were looking forward to trying on the most; you were working your way up to it.

“I FOUND IT!” Tammy announces smugly, as if the two of them weren’t able to tell, “OOH! THAT’S A NICE COLOR! ARE YOU GOING TO DO YOUR TOES TOO? WHAT SHOES DO YOU HAVE?” She glances down at the brown flats you’ve laid out next to the dress she’s already rejected. Her lips purse in displeasure; you aren’t all that fond of them either, but they fit, which can’t always be said about women’s shoes. “NEVER MIND. TOMMY MAKE SURE DAD’S TOES ARE DONE TOO, I’M PRETTY SURE THERE ARE FLIP-FLOPS THAT WOULD WORK. THIS IS A SUNDRESS, SO IT’S FINE.” After depositing her loot onto the bed, markedly on top of the other dress, she braves her way back into the closet.

Tommy, having already finished with your hands, looks warily down at your bare feet then back up to you, unable to hide his cringe.

You laugh, a little more than the situation warrants, “I’ll do it myself when my hands are dry,” you reassure your son. You just showered, so all of you is squeaky clean, and anyway your feet aren’t ugly just big. But Tommy has a mild fear of feet; you aren’t so incompetent with a nail brush as to make your son face that.

Gratefully, he closes the nail polish bottle and sets it down on your nightstand. He clambers up onto the bed next to you, fidgeting a little unsurely, before pulling your new outfit for the day into his lap. “This is better,” He nods, agreeing with his sister’s decision, and smiles back up at you.

Your relief has already crashed through you like a flood, but it’s only now that the tears finally come. You can’t wipe them away, because your fingernails are still drying and you don’t want to mess Tommy’s hard work.

“GOT THEM!” Tammy crawls back out, your light yellow flip-flops clutched in her left hand. It doesn’t quite match the dress, but it doesn’t outrightly clash either, so she’s satisfied with them. “DAD! WHY ARE YOU CRYING?” She drops the sandals and leaps onto the bed on your other side, the impact makes Tommy bounce half a foot into the air, but you’re heavy enough that it only just shakes you.

She flings her arms around your neck and shoulders from behind you–this is a hug to be received, not reciprocated. Tommy just leans his head against your side.

If anything, that just makes you cry harder. Your kids–your fantastic, supportive, perfect kids–stay where they are, waiting patiently.  

When you’re finally done, the twins gently press a tissue to each side of your face. Your face is warm and your eyes are probably puffy, but you feel better now.

“You don’t have much hair to work with,” Tammy muses, her hands ruffling through your still damp locks. You laugh, because in comparison to your partially balding coworkers, you have an envious amount of hair, “I have a clip that might work? So your bangs don’t fly everywhere like they usually do,” She’s inherited your wild hair, so she knows what she’s talking about.

“We could go to the beach?” Tommy suggests quietly, and he means well–it’s a nice gesture, they don’t mind other people knowing how their Dad likes to wear dresses sometimes, they’re not ashamed. But maybe you’re not as accepting or as brave because at the idea of other people seeing… all you can feel is a tightening in your throat and a tenseness in your shoulders at the idea. Tammy, still curled around you, feels it too.

“Let’s order in pizza! And we can play video games!” Your daughter says, careful not to completely reject her brother’s idea.

“Oh,” Tommy pauses for a moment, then adds, “Yeah, Dad, we can finally get through all of Nicktoons Unite.”

You love your kids so much. You smile and nod, that sounds like a good plan.

“OKAY!” Tammy yells, thankfully having jumped off the bed and far enough from your ears, “I’LL GO GET THAT CLIP! YOU GUYS ORDER PIZZA! NO BLACK OLIVES!” She runs out the door, footsteps stomping.

Tommy looks up at you beseechingly.

“We can get two different pizzas. One with black olives, one without,”

He nods and also leaves, probably headed to wherever he left his laptop to order the pizza online. You really can get anything on the Internet nowadays.

“Make sure both of them have other vegetables!” You call out after him. You’re not sure if he heard you or not, so if the pizzas do end up vegetable-less you’ll let it pass.

You look at yourself in your mirror. You’re still you, adam’s apple and biceps and square jaw. But each of your fingernails are painted taffy pink, and you’ve done your best at shaving away your facial, underarm, and leg hair. You have a dress waiting to be worn laying on your bed, you still need to paint your toenails to match, and your daughter is coming back with a hair clip to share.

You will wear that dress. You will paint your toenails. You will let your daughter arrange your hair to her liking. Then you and your amazing kids will eat pizza and play video games.

You are happy.

~

A/N: Well… I dunno if anyone noticed it while reading, but basically this is adult Timmy Turner of Fairly Odd Parents fame, with his two kids that we see in the Channel Chasers movie. But, uh, hopefully none of that is necessary to enjoy the drabble. Also, I’m not too keen on the ending though I like this drabble over all.

Wooh! This is the first time I posted way before midnight.