Anti-Cosmo was watching Timmy discreetly over the rim of his cup whilst contemplating the turn of events. In an attempt for peace, the fairies and anti-fairies were seeing more of each other. This suited Anti-Cosmo, despite his initial contempt. It was a pointless endeavour, but had provided vast entertainment for himself. Cosmo exasperated him, but it was impossible to truly hate his counterpart. Wanda and himself were developing a live-and-let-live relationship. Foop was gradually getting over Poof's existence. And as for Timmy...
A smile played on Anti-Cosmo's lips. Timmy was getting interesting. After all the anti-fairy's efforts, he had conceded to the fact that Timmy would never be his godchild. It was too late; Timmy was too old, too attached to the other two. Not that that had ended the dynamic of their relationship. Timmy was 12 or 13 now - Anti-Cosmo thought 12 but he couldn't be sure - and it amused him immensely to have the child constantly tongue-tied in his presence. Endless entertainment, Timmy's falling for him was. He'd refused to believe the evidence at first, but Timmy's godmother's glaring and the observations from the, though he hated to admit it, superior intelligence of his son, confirmed his judgement. It was delightful. Priceless and immoral and dark and delicious and twisted and all the things he loved best.
Still. It was just entertainment. Contrary to his laidback counterpart, Anti-Cosmo had a deal of unchannelled energy and a great deal of self-control with it. He restrained himself for once. He kept Timmy at arms' length and held him with amused indifference. No-one could expect any more from a tempted Anti-Fairy.
However, it made no difference to Wanda's glaring, who clearly expected him to pounce on her godchild if given half a chance. Foop was alternately amused and irritated, but mostly disinterested, for which Anti-Cosmo was grateful. Cosmo, Anti-Wanda and Poof were oblivious, and there was no point in enlightening them. This was between himself and Timmy, if this ever amounted to anything beyond the suppression of a pre-teen crush.
Anti-Cosmo came out of his reverie and returned his attention to Cosmo and Timmy in his home, Wanda-less. She was probably wetting herself with worry already. Cosmo was blathering away and Timmy was ostentatiously searching Anti-Cosmo's cellar for what they had come to borrow, a book, and hadn't looked Anti-Cosmo's way once since they had arrived. Anti-Cosmo had idly offered them some tea and then left them to it. Rather than helping, he had deigned to simply watch because it made Timmy uncomfortable and Cosmo didn't know any better. It was wonderful to not have Wanda over their shoulders. Still, with them searching with a vengeance and paying no attention whatsoever to him, it was beginning to get rather boring. After a while, he excused himself.
He busied himself with things in his drawers, so if he was disturbed he had an excuse to snap. He just wanted to think. It wouldn't do to overanalyse Timmy. He was a preteen whose hormones were kicking in, albeit not in the most conventional sense, but that was all. He hadn't been pondering this for long when the door opened. Anti-Cosmo stiffened; somehow he instinctively knew who it was.
Sure enough, he turned around to find little Timmy just outside the doorframe, like a daisy in a lion's den. He was blushing furiously but his azure eyes had a steely gaze. He was an extraordinary boy for his age, and used to getting what he wanted.
"Yes?" Anti-Cosmo asked courteously, almost insolently over-polite. This would be interesting. Half of him didn't expect Timmy to actually try anything.
Timmy came forward and shut the door behind him, commencing into the room and hoisting himself up onto Anti-Cosmo's bed. He performed these actions so brusquely, with such emphasis, that their meaning could not be mistaken. Anti-Cosmo was a little taken aback by his brashness; he had clearly underestimated the little thing. He tilted his head speculatively as he studied him. Timmy was looking up at him expectantly, shoulders slightly hunched as he gripped the edge of the bed. Not quite as brave as he was making out. Anti-Cosmo looked back with narrowed eyes and a contemplative smile, not without some fondness. What a godchild he would have made. They could have avoided this sticky situation, and all that bravery and allure could be put to far better use. No matter.
Anti-Cosmo came towards Timmy and the child closed his eyes expectantly. Such naïvety. Anti-Cosmo could practically feel his heartbeat strumming his nerves from inches away. His own desire bristled under his skin as he looked at the innocent little thing.
He placed a hand at either side of Timmy and leaned in, lips nearly brushing his ear. Timmy gave an almost imperceptible shiver.
"The things I could do to you," he mused, voice low with dark amusement.
Timmy was holding his breath, taut with anticipation, and Anti-Cosmo savoured the moment.
Anti-Cosmo smiled, allowing himself the tiniest of nuzzles. "You're not ready for them." He withdrew.
As he expected, Timmy was looking affronted. "What? What do you mean?" His hands made a half-hearted attempt to grab at Anti-Cosmo's clothes, seemingly of their own accord, but swiped through thin air as Anti-Cosmo moved out of his reach. His voice was shrill, but Anti-Cosmo wasn't concerned; only Cosmo was within earshot. "Dude, you're evil! You're an anti-fairy! What do you care whether I'm ready or not?" His growing frustration was as amusing as it was endearing.
"You're 12, Timmy," he said smoothly. "If nothing changes, come to me in a few years."
He didn't quite want to leave Timmy a traumatised, quivering wreck. Not yet, anyway. His wounds of losing Timmy as a future godchild were still fresh, and he hadn't lost that regard for him yet. It would come. Even now, part of him wanted to devour Timmy within an inch of his life. To teach everyone a lesson if nothing else. But he only smiled at Timmy thinly.
"Trust me, sweet," he said, holding the door open for him. "There's nothing like anticipation to build up an appetite."
"But..."
Anti-Cosmo smiled knowingly. His appetite was already built, and he wanted to get it out of his system. Anti-Cosmo sympathised, but he didn't think he could settle for that. He wanted much more from Timmy, and still thought of him fondly enough to wait. "I know what you want." He tapped the door meaningfully. "Soon."
Timmy gave him a glare that would have given his godmother a run for her money, and left. Anti-Cosmo found himself with a paradox of emotions, relief and regret. He conjured up a cup of tea to console himself, then changed it for a glass of wine. He doubted either himself or Timmy would wait a few years.