My first FOP fanfic – so go easy on me, alright!

Alright, fine – DON'T play nice – I'd rather receive an honest review than a nice one – I love Tootie – she's a little creepy, but she gives the rest of us stalkers who are dreaming of love a chance to feel normal.

Trixie can go lick a fork!

ooo

Easy, Turner, just take it easy. The thought springing upward, as the pink-clad teenager struggled to maintain a steady intake of breath, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he hung his legs nonchalantly off the edge of his bed – which-so happened to be floating a good 12 inches off of it's previous position on the floor below (the un-intentional work of his "god-brother").

Inhale.

The lids of his closed eyes, twitching slightly as a massive collection of unwanted thoughts flooded his mind.

The way her hair looked today – grown out long, and free of the set of ties which had kept it in a set of pigtails for all of the previous years that he'd known her. It looked shiny and ... soft.

She'd ditched the glasses too.

The deep blue of her eyes no longer hidden behind thick, childish, rims.

Blue. He'd noticed what color they were.

Guys, weren't supposed to notice that stuff – I was a rule! – scrawled out messily onto the ancient, guarded, imaginary toilet paper that could be found the brain of every guy other in the universe – but him.

He'd broken that rule, for Tootie of all people.

"Hiya, Timmy!" chimed Cosmo, oblivious to the boy's current state. "Up for a game of Crash Nebula – you'll be surprised at my skills ..." He boasted pulling off a look of superiority, as he floated before his god-child, pretending to polish his knuckles. "Yours truly, made it all the way to level one — and let me tell you, it wasn't easy finding the 'Start' button."

"No thanks."

"The ... not-study game?"

"Nah."

"... Wanna try some 'a my head-jelly – I'm pretty sure it's raspberry this time ... hmmm – Rasberry?"

"Not hungry."

The fairy merely shrugs, placing his index finger into the bottomless cavern that was his ear. After removing the last drop of the sticky, head-filled condiment off of his finger tip – he began to notice that something wasn't right.

"Oh, I seeeee!" Cosmo chimed again, arching his brow. "Struck out with Trixie again, didya? Well, Timothy – I believe the French have a saying, 'When in doubt ... fry up some bacon!'"

At this conclusion, a pan of bacon instantly appeared the fairy's hand – the creature whistles gleefully right before a patch a grease rose from the sizzling utensil and, landed in his cornea.

Timmy watched in both un-interest and amazement, as Cosmo circled around the room frantically, looking for a source of relief – Trixie? Who was she again?

Suddenly, a sigh could be heard from a once empty corner of the room, and a bag stuffed with ice appeared right in the path of the screaming Cosmo – he held it to his searing eye, sighing in comfort.

"You do seem down-in-the-dumps, sport." said Wanda, releasing a cooing Poof, the usual hint of a mother's concern in her voice, as she drifted away from the now, pain-free moron that was her husband, and toward the disgruntled boy. "Anything, I can help with?"

"Not exactly, Wanda." Timmy sighed, "To be honest ... I'm not sure what the problem is."

"Crocker fail you again?" offered Cosmo, now having produced an entire iceberg to shield his eye – as Poof giggled, gleefully, tossing the currently melted ice pack into the air – spraying bits of water everywhere.

"It's, it's just I feel ..."

Wanda nodding, understanding in her eyes – while beyond her shoulder Cosmo wrestled with his son for the bag of water.

"... different." Timmy concluded.

"Different ... how." nudged, the pink fairy.

"It's ... It's just ..." the boy stammered lamely.

Wanda raised a flush eyebrow. "It's got something to do with a girl doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah ... but ..."

"She the girl that you never thought you'd learn to like?"

"... yeah ..."

"The one you never let into your tree-house?"

"... y-yeah, maybe."

"She the one that allowed you to experience 'guilt' for the first time? – the one you gave up your Crimson Chin for?"

The boys, sighs – defeated. "Yeah."

"Oh, Timmy!" Wanda cried. "It's perfectly normal to feel that way!"

"Wanda, I ..."

"You're a big boy, now – with lots of 'big boy' thoughts ... and feelings ... and smells ... Just, look!" Her delicate fingers nudge slightly at his forearm, ushering him to raise it – revealing ...

"Yuck! I still think armpit hair's gross!"

"It's wonderful — a complete change in perspective ...!" Wanda gushes, ignoring his last statement. "You've fallen for Tootie!"

The 'death-glare' Timmy positions toward his god-mother is somewhat weakened by his crimson blush

"Oh, sport!" Wanda cries, enveloping her god-child in a crushing hug, and floating toward the ceiling – dropping him pointedly on the mattress below. "I always knew you'd realize how sweet she is!"

"Yeah ..." puffs Timmy, his face a light-blue color – "... great ... now can you ... re-inflate ... my lungs?"

At least with more oxygen, 'affairs of the heart' would seem less complicated.