Author's note: Hey everybody! It is SO nice to be here. Over the past couple months I have spent an ungodly amount of time reading fanfiction, and now here I am posting! Gosh and golly. Okay, here's the situation: this is my first fanfiction. It didn't turn out as spectacular as I wanted, but I still think it's pretty decent. It began as a one-shot, but it got REALLY long, so I'm posting it as 2 chapters. Now, although this story is all fluff, no real action, I have some really good ideas for a more action-y Fillmore fic (with some I/F too, of course), but I need ideas for a Safety Patrol case. I am not good with mysteries; I barely liked Nancy Drew. So please, review and give me some ideas for mysteries (Middle School-type mysteries. Don't give me stuff with drugs, guns, etc.). Tell me what the crime was and who the suspects and victims are. You could e-mail them to me or say it in a review. If I choose your idea, I'll dedicate the story to you (don't think of it as bribery to suggest, think of it as a reward ;). With that said, on with the show (I hope you enjoy it)...
Dedication: This story is dedicated to my friends Nia and Ellie, my first editors, who are the reason you guys are getting a pretty much grammar-error free and "much-better-than-it-was-orignally" story. They are awesome. Luv ya guys!
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form, own or am associated with the show "Fillmore!" If I was, those morons at Disney wouldn't have cancelled and killed it! Ahem... continuing.
In all his time as a Safety Patroller, Fillmore had never seen time move more slowly.
On Wednesday, Principal Folsom had come to the Safety Patrol on a matter of 'utmost importance'. Checkmatey, the school's resident rapping chess master had been receiving notes of a threatening nature, warning him to drop out of the inter-school competition on Friday. Principal Folsom had then said, "I know I shouldn't have to worry about anything because I know the Safety Patrol will be giving 110 to keep Checkmatey safe for the match." It had not been a request.
So here they were. Confined to an ancient storage closet that had been equipped with a small card table, three folding chairs, and the runner up for "most annoying person in the world." (The winner being the lady on the "I can't believe it's not butter commercial. Don't ask). Fillmore and Ingrid had been assigned as Checkmatey's bodyguards, and after two tortuous days, Fillmore felt like banging his hair-less head against a wall. Repeatedly. With Checkmatey's bad-boy 'I think I'm gangsta' attitude and his inability to BE SILENT for more than ten seconds, Fillmore was going to lose it. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand to be stuck in this storage closet with this infuriating kid.
Judging by Ingrid's tense posture, twitching eyebrow, and the glares she kept shooting out from under her dark hair at their charge, he was fairly certain she wasn't doing any better; she despised people who thought they were better than everyone else. Plus, Ingrid was generally a more reserved person and undoubtedly was not taking kindly to Checkmatey's ill-advised flirtation attempts. Fillmore had thought about intervening, but decided against it. Ingrid knew how to take care of herself. He smirked, his teeth showing white against his dark skin, feeling a little sorry for Checkmatey for when Ingrid really decided to put a stop to his actions.
"Yo, officers, I'm this close to dyin' of boredom ova here." For the fifth time in the last hour, a voice that had grown more and more irritating as time went on interrupted Fillmore's thoughts. Ingrid's unusually bright green eyes snapped up at the sound of the hated voice. Fillmore had no doubt her thoughts right then were not pleasant. "Isn't there somewhere else we can go? This is screwing wi' my image, ya know?"
Fillmore closed his dark brown eyes and counted to ten, trying to come up with a civil response.
"No." Well, he had tried.
"Ah, that's totally whack yo!" Checkmatey replied before returning to his grumbling.
Ingrid snapped shut the book she had been reading, a pink tinge staining her pale skin with frustration. "Checkmatey, I'm going to have to ask you to STOP COMPLAINING," she warned in a don't-cross-me voice. "As much fun as it is for us to be locked in a storeroom with you for hours and hours, I for one would prefer quiet."
Checkmatey backed off for a moment, but then a cocky grin slid onto his face as he sidled next to Ingrid. "Well, of course sweet thang. There's nothin' I couldn't do fo' you." He attempted to put an arm around her, but she quickly slapped his arm and stood up. Fillmore gave a humorless smile at Checkmatey's exclamation, "Ow!" These incidents were becoming increasingly annoying. He didn't like his partner having to deal with this. Before he could say anything, she spoke.
"Fillmore?"
"Yeah?" he asked.
"It's almost noon, and one of us has to go and pick up lunch while the other baby-sits him," she said exasperatedly, shooting a glare at the aforementioned him. "Would you mind if I went? I need some air."
Fillmore attempted to smother an amused grin. Ingrid had a look on her face that meant death to the next person who managed to irritate her. Especially if that person happened to be an annoying blond chess player. He couldn't really help his grin; Ingrid was physically a small and unimposing person, and seeing her with a look that could kill was nothing short of funny. Seeing his grin, Ingrid turned her glare towards him. That made it less funny. He gulped.
"Sure Ingrid."
"Thanks." Throwing a final glare at Checkmatey, Ingrid stalked out of the storeroom, leaving both her partner and the rapping chess player staring after her in her wake.
After a moment, Checkmatey broke the silence. "Dang! That girl is supa fine! I really dig them feisty chicks."
Fillmore gave a noncommittal grunt and sat down again.
"Hey, yo, I just got my inspiration for my new rap. Yo, yo, I knowa girl who's supa fine, some day I'm gonna make her mine-" he stopped as Fillmore slammed his hand down on the folding table that had been set up.
"Stop that," Fillmore said with deadly calm. It was an order, not a request.
"Man, why ya always gotta be hatin' an' such?" Checkmatey complained. "You could be doin' somethin' useful, like telling me how to make the ice princess warm up to me."
Fillmore bristled at Checkmatey calling Ingrid the 'ice princess'. He wanted to set the jerk straight; anyone who really knew Ingrid knew she wasn't cold, but instead he settled for a firm, "No."
"Aww man, why not?"
He gritted his teeth. "Because I really don't think she'd appreciate it."
"But why-…ohhh, I get it." Checkmatey sat back with a smirk on his face.
Fillmore shot him a look. "Get what?"
"I get why you don't wanna give me any tips to get that sweet honey to fall for me."
"And why is that?" Fillmore asked mockingly while turning to walk back to his chair.
"Because you're jealous."
Fillmore froze. As he turned around, he asked again, "What?"
Checkmatey smirked. "You're jealous."
"Of what?" Fillmore asked in annoyed bafflement.
"Of me."
"Of you? Why?"
Checkmatey snorted. "You're jealous of the fact that your partner is more into me than she's into you."
Fillmore blinked. "You've got to be joking."
"Nah, I think I got it right. I understand why you'd be jealous though. Ingrid's a real piece of work. Sorry to steal her from you," he said gloatingly, patting Fillmore on the shoulder.
"Steal her from me?" Fillmore asked with a humorless laugh. "Ingrid and I don't feel that way about each other, we're just partners."
"Yeah right. I've seen you two walkin' down the hallways lookin' pretty chummy."
"Forgive me. Ingrid and I are partners and best friends. But we are NOT together." Fillmore didn't know why, but this conversation was really beginning to bother him.
Checkmatey chuckled. "Whatever officer. Whatever you two are or aren't, it don't change the fact that she's more into me."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Fillmore commented dryly.
"I would."
"You're delusional."
"You're jealous."
"Not likely."
"Well, if you're not, then you won't mind watchin' that sweet honey fall fo' Checkmatey's irresistible charm. It's pretty obvious she's already started."
Fillmore could have laughed. The idea that smart, sensible Ingrid Third would fall for this whacked out poser was hilarious. Except for some reason, Fillmore couldn't find anything remotely funny about what Checkmatey was saying. "You are fooling yourself man," Fillmore stated with an angry undertone.
"Yeah, what makes you think that Officer? I mean Ingrid won't be the first or last girl to fall fo' Checkmatey yo."
"Because, you moron!" Fillmore exploded as he stood up. "Ingrid would never waste her time on a guy like you! She's too smart for that and she'd be too good for you anyway!" Fillmore took a breath before continuing with dangerous calm, "So once again, she would never be interested in a guy like you. Like I said, I wouldn't bet on it."
"Oh yeah?" Checkmatey countered. He really didn't know when to quit. "She ain't interested in a guy like me, huh? So what, officer? She interested in a guy like you?"
Out of everything Fillmore had expected him to say that was certainly not it. The statement knocked Fillmore back for a second. He struggled with his words. "N-No," he stammered. "Like I told you before, Ingrid and I are just partners."
"And best friends," Checkmatey mimicked him.
"Yes," Fillmore said, glaring daggers at the boy. "The point is, I know Ingrid a lot better than you do. She's nice and funny and smart and…" he stopped after receiving a knowing smirk from Checkmatey. "So trust me when I say she'd never be interested in you," he finished.
Thinking he had set him straight, Fillmore turned to go sit down, but was immediately stopped by Checkmatey's voice. "Yo, officer?"
He turned exasperatedly. "Yes?"
He still wore a smug grin on his face. "I was thinkin'—"
"I'll alert the presses," Fillmore retorted.
Checkmatey's grin didn't fall as he continued, "If you and Ingrid aren't a couple, and she's not into 'guys like me', then…"
"Yes?"
Again with the grin. "What kinda guy is she interested in?"
Fillmore gave him a deadpan stare. After a moment, he replied, "Please stop talking."
Checkmatey snorted. "Whatever you say officer," he responded with satisfaction. He had caused enough headaches for the moment.
Fillmore was finally able to sit back down. Unfortunately, his feet didn't need nearly so much rest as his head. For a kid who didn't seem capable of thought, Checkmatey had given him a lot to mull over.
He didn't know what had made him so angry about Checkmatey saying Ingrid liked him. He knew that Ingrid would never be into Checkmatey. He could have ignored the blond boy's words and stood secure in his knowledge. But he didn't. For some reason, he couldn't stand the chess master thinking he even had a shot with Ingrid.
'I mean, it's not like I don't realize Ingrid's a girl,' Fillmore thought to himself. 'I guess it's pretty obvious that eventually she'll have a boyfriend. There'll probably be lots of guys flirting with her at least.' Those last thoughts gave him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shoved the feelings away. 'Well, and why not?' he thought. 'I'm surprised some guys haven't started already. She only looks like she's distant to everyone, but you only have to be around her for a little while to realize what a great person she is. Intelligent and funny and kind and brave and…' Fillmore shook his head to clear it. Those kinds of thoughts were not going to get him anywhere.
He shot a glance over to Checkmatey who seemed to be innocently listening to his portable CD player. With his eyes closed, the chess player's lips moved, forming words to a song that was blasting through his headphones. Fillmore's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he watched the boy and considered his last question. Despite his testimony that he and Ingrid had no romantic interest in each other, Fillmore had to admit that now that the question had been brought up, he was very curious about the answer.
Just as Fillmore hadn't really considered Ingrid having a boyfriend, he hadn't considered who it would be, or what they would be like. Quickly checking on Checkmatey, Fillmore closed his eyes and tried to imagine what sort of guy would fit the persona of Ingrid Third.
With his eyes still closed, he conjured up a series of pictures of the girl in his mind. In the park, in the hallway, the library, cafeteria, anywhere where Ingrid would go with her…boyfriend. Fillmore then began putting different guys next to Ingrid in those pictures. First, a football player. At that thought, he almost had to laugh. 'As if Ingrid would go for a guy like that.' His humor quickly disappeared though. Wasn't that the whole point of these thoughts? That he didn't know what kind of guy Ingrid would go for? Who was he to say whom she'd never consider?
'Well, I am her best friend,' he thought. 'I guess I'd know her tastes pretty well.' Still, he forced himself to look at the picture again, trying to observe it objectively.
It wasn't funny this time. But still, 'I just can't picture Ingrid giggling and following some guy around all day like jock's girlfriends usually do.'
And so the pictures went on. The preppy guys were too shallow, the true Goths too dark. Fillmore went through every clique he could think of, in between checking on Checkmatey. Ingrid would never put up with the melodramatics of the theatre crowd. Maybe one of the "delinquents"? Nah, they tended to be bitter about Ingrid throwing them in detention. The class clowns were too off-the-wall and the nerds would never bring out the fun side of Ingrid Third, a side people outside of the force didn't know existed. This was like some twisted version of Goldilocks trying all the chairs and bowls of porridge. But this time, Goldie couldn't seem to find one that was "just right."
Fillmore sighed in frustration. No matter how many guys he thought of, he was fairly certain Ingrid wouldn't be interested in any of them. She was special, unique, and all the guys seemed to be very wrong with her. Of course, these thoughts were completely objective. They didn't have anything at all to do with the unexpected, unfamiliar pang he got every time he imagined Ingrid enjoying her time with another guy.
Suddenly, Fillmore latched on to another statement Checkmatey had made: 'so what, officer? She's interested in a guy like you?' He hadn't thought about picturing guys in the force. He closed his eyes again. Vallejo was immediately rejected. That would just be weird. O'Farrell maybe? That was a laugh. He knew Ingrid saw him almost as a younger brother. An extremely klutzy and weird younger brother, but good-hearted nevertheless. Fillmore almost decided to give up on this train of thought when all of a sudden; an unwelcome thought came to him. 'Anza,' he thought. 'What if Ingrid was interested in Anza?' He tried to imagine it. Anza was a nice guy and he and Ingrid seemed to be good friends. But how good?
An awful realization hit him. It was possible. Ingrid and Anza were compatible enough to work as a couple. Picturing them together, he realized that they actually looked like a couple. That thought gave Fillmore a painful and queasy feeling. Not to mention a sudden strong desire to push Joseph Anza into a dumpster. But still, no matter how good those two seemed for each other, looking at his mental picture of them together, something just felt…off.
'This is pathetic,' Fillmore told himself disgustedly. 'I'm her best friend and Ican't match up her personality with one guy in this entire school without it feeling wrong.' What's more, he couldn't figure out why it was bothering him so much. 'There's got to be some guy Ingrid would like who wouldn't get me jeal—not that I've got any reason to be—.' Fillmore massaged his temples. Try as he might to deny it, he didn't think there was any guy Ingrid would choose whom he would be okay with. 'Unless…unless maybe it was…no!' Fillmore straightened up. 'I'm not even going down that road.'
Unfortunately, his thoughts were not behaving well that day. All he could think about was how good of a partner and friend he had found in Ingrid Third. How much his world had brightened with her around, after the pain of having his best friend move away. In fact, Fillmore was beginning to suspect that Ingrid was becoming a closer and better friend than Wayne had been. He knew that he would always treasure Wayne as a friend, but they had separated and now had new lives and experiences that the other had no part of. They would always be friends, but they were different people and had grown in different ways. Wayne was past; Ingrid was here now.
However, no matter how rebellious his thoughts ran, he managed to keep them away from a single locked door in his mind. Somehow, Fillmore knew that behind that door, he'd only find disaster. And that was because he had a theory that from behind the door was where a certain feeling was coming from; the funny feeling he had begun to have in his stomach sometimes when he looked at Ingrid Third.
Fillmore grunted in frustration and opened his eyes… only to find Checkmatey smirking at him. "Troubled thoughts officer? Lady troubles?"
"No."
"Ya know officer, some day ya gonna hafta quit denyin' what the whole school is guessin' and talkin' about. Your 'partner's' gonna have to wise up too."
Fillmore glared at him hard and was just about to ask him what he meant about his partner, and then possibly duct tape his mouth, but Ingrid managed to choose just that moment to walk back in.
"Sorry I took so long Fillmore, I stopped by HQ and…whoa," she said under her breath, catching the glaring contest.
Fillmore broke contact first and turned towards Ingrid. "It's fine. What were you saying?"
"After we eat, Principal Folsom wants us to take Checkmatey to one of our houses for safekeeping. I suggested mine since my dad is home and maybe that'll give us more security."
"Sure," Fillmore said.
Ingrid brought out the fare from the Egg Rollery and handed it to Checkmatey. Then she walked back over to Fillmore. As they dug through the plastic take-out bags Ingrid put her hand on his shoulder and asked concernedly, "Fillmore, what was going on in here before I came in?"
Fillmore glanced at Checkmatey out of the corner of his eye. The boy seemed to be back in his self-centered world.
"Nothing," Fillmore stated decisively.
Author's note: Well, did you like it? Please, I don't want the Fillmore fic section to die off so soon, so please tell me what I did right and/or wrong so I can write more fics. Please send me your ideas, the last part of this fic should be up tomorrow or the next day. (Also, I'm thinking of starting a I/F Christmas one-shot. Do you think I should?) Until then, I remain yours...
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