Author's Note: Hectic time right now at my 'house', so sorry for the late update. That and I really need to start thinking about colleges...

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP, but I do enjoy writing it. Although, if I may, why does Nickelodeon run the same reruns of FOP every weekday at seven? Yeesh.

Chapter Nine: Surface Impressions

After she's finished, there's utter silence. Not a sound can be heard, save from their breathing and any local habitants. Trixie awaits with bated breath his response.

"Wow..." Gazing at her, his mouth agape, Timmy discovers he has nothing to say in response. Relationships aren't supposed to have secrets, this one does. However, if he told its secret, the relationship would be over. He can't do that to her...besides, he doesn't like Tootie, right? Er, right?

"That's all you can say?!" Trixie shrieks, frustrated. "I told you basically my whole life story and all you can do is gawk at me like a moron?!"

"I'm sorry!" Timmy bursts out, jumping up. "I don't know what to tell you! It's not as though someone comes up to me every day and tells me that their father's been lying to them and their mother's MIA!"

"The least you could do is kiss me!" She blurts, stunned at her daring. He, too, shares her astonishment- if she isn't careful, with another outburst like this, he'll pass out at her feet. Like father, like son, at least, from what she can surmise. She wonders idly if the phrase, like mother, like daughter is true, but she'll never know for sure (at least, not until she has kids of her own).

"You want me to kiss you?" He repeats, completely oblivious. Mentally, she slaps a hand to her forehead. Don Juan, he is not. In fact, intelligent he is not as well. What on earth attracted her to him in the first place? Is there some sort of unwritten rule that, no matter how ugly the hero is, girls must fall all over him?

No, Timmy, I want you to get on your knees and ask me to marry you. Of course, it might be a little unusual since we're only ten, but I think you can handle being a young father. Sure, there's the fact neither of us has finished elementary school, but, hey, you don't need that much of an education to work in McDonalds, do you? How much schooling do you need to ask, "Do you want fries with that?"

Oh, and the social disgrace would be astounding, but I could always do what my mother did and just leave you. Who are you but the bastard father of my illegitimate kid? Well, give or take a few years for that...

How on earth could she have left me like that? What was she thinking? Why didn't she make any attempt to communicate with me after she left? Why didn't she take me with her?!

And now, she's coming here and all Timmy can say is 'wow'?! Like that'll summarize any and all feelings involving me and my relationship with my mother? It'll appease my feelings of worry, somewhat nausea, and rejection? 'Wow'? What a moron.

Darn it, Timmy, I want you to do more than stare at me. I want you to sweep me off my feet, like you used to, just hold me and tell me everything's going to be all right. I know it might not be the truth, but it's what I want to hear. Don't you have any experience with that- the truth and what people want to be the truth? Lie to me.

Isn't it amazing how crucial lies are to society? There are the little white lies that aren't supposed to hurt someone but might if you're not careful, then there are the lies the government tells the people, like 'the war on terrorism is going fine', then the lies parents tell their children 'this'll hurt me more than it's going to hurt you', and, finally, there are the lies we tell ourselves. Possibly, these are the worst lies, because we know the truth but we prefer to turn the other cheek...we want to hear we're wrong, we want to be happy, even if we're crying inside.

For instance, I want Timmy to kiss me, not just because I like him, but I want to know he cares, even if that isn't true. I'd prefer to believe he did, because that'll make things easier for me and, in turn, allow me to swallow larger lies. If he's there, somehow, magically, everything will be all right.

Lies often cocoon, in a mass ball of betrayal and self-delusion. They build up, the smaller lies feeding the larger ones. If you can swallow a small one, you can work your way up to the big ones. Politicians do it all the time- they're called campaign promises.

In a way, a promise can be a lie too, if it's used repeatedly and it's never carried out. They cushion your fall if you believe in one that you know will never happen, because you have a failsafe. 'Oh, I didn't do this, but it's all right because it'll be done someday'.

Someday, that mysterious day in the future when people won't need the lies, won't need the delusion, won't need the diet of falsehoods they dine upon daily. The world will be happy...but is that possible? Can we keep ourselves happy, but tell the truth? Or are lies needed to keep some people happy, the ones who desperately need to hear them?

Is that why we lie? Do we need to make the other person happy and tell them what they want to hear? Are we so selfish in making people happy, we don't think that maybe they need to hear the truth, that it could be more important than giving them lip service?

In high society, lip service is the only service known. People go to dinner parties and grieve if they're miserable, but only so long as it's 'proper'. Once it's not, they must shove any remorse to the side and become happy again. They plaster a smile on their face and act as though they don't care.

That's what I'm going to have to do tomorrow in school. I'll waltz around, the queen of the bell, and I'll cry inwardly. Because that's the only lie I can't uphold, the one to myself. It's awfully hard to tell yourself the lie when you need the truth.

But still...I'd like Timmy to kiss me.

Smiling weakly and utter perplexed, Timmy places an arm on her shoulders and leans forward. She can tell he's terrified to lay a hand on her, as though she'll spontaneously combust if he kisses her. It'd be amusing if it were any other time, any other place.

Trembling, he does as she commands and kisses her. He's shaking so badly, she has to sit down with him on her lap before he ceases. The thought never occurs to her there might be another reason for his actions...

Smiling softly, she kisses him back, wrapping her arms around him. His blue eyes widen in astonishment, but, with a smirk, she shuts them again. Her hand remains on his face.

They stay like this for a little while, until Trixie breaks the lock. It isn't proper for two ten years to kiss for as long as they have and, besides, Timmy's grown so ashen, he resembles a ghost. Why would he pale, she wonders. That's certainly an odd reaction...

A quick glance at her watch tells her that it's time to go home, however, before she's missed. As much as she'd love to spend the evening with him, and her knees seem to agree with her, because they can't hold her up, she has to return to her house. She wasn't supposed to be out here once, let alone twice, with him. She'll see him tomorrow.

Sighing heavily, for different reasons, they depart. Well, one does...

---------

Timmy decides not to go home, however, and he sits on the bench; the wilderness surrounds him. Cosmo and Wanda join him, returning to their fairy forms. Wanda might get permanent indents in her face from frowning so much.

"Guys..." He says by way of beginning. Cosmo grins slyly at him, but Wanda elbows him. Lecture time, kiddies.

"I hope you're happy," Wanda huffs, her eyes glued to the path Trixie took to leave. Darn it, she didn't want to be, but now she's concerned about this girl. What on earth has her godson gotten himself into? Two girls need him now, and he's lying to both of them. If only there was a way to make them both happy...

"What do I do?" Timmy inquires, flopping down. Cosmo grins down at him, approving of the string of girls he's acquiring. His godson's a pimp- he's so proud. The only thing is, he can't tell him as much because, strangely enough, Wanda might take umbrage at it.

"Why don't you tell them the truth?" She snaps, arms folded across her chest. Once again, the order to follow Trixie enters her mind and, for once, she feels as though it's imperative she heed it. She doesn't like the idea of her walking home alone, long after the sunsets. She needs some sort of protection, regardless of how safe Dimmsdale appears to be, on the surface.

Too bad I don't know what that is anymore. I'm not sure whom I'm attracted to, who I feel sorrier for, and-

A small voice whispers in his head, And you don't want to choose. Besides, you aren't sure if Tootie still frightens you- maybe you ought to just let her dangle. What's her big problem, Vicky? Well, too darn bad!

No! That isn't right, to cast her aside because of her sister. Just because she's got the nastiest sister on earth doesn't mean I should just disregard her. I mean, she might be freaky sometimes, but she can also be nice, right?

Still, the voice counters, Trixie's the normal one. Even with her mother, you won't have to worry about growing up and discovering Trixie's turned into a younger version of her older sister because, luckily, Trix's an only child. The only thing you have to worry about is her father and once he likes you, you'll have no problem.

But is that right? I know I like Trixie and she likes me back, but...why do I like her? Because she's pretty? Is that fair to either of us?

Sternly, his fairy godmother speaks through pursed lips. "I think, in the very least, if you can't make up your mind, you ought to come clean. You owe them that much."

Unhelpfully, Cosmo pipes up, irritating his wife to no end, "And if you don't choose, you can just have them both! Girls don't mind!"

Glowering, Wanda spins on him and spits back, "Yes, we do. We don't appreciate 'sharing' nor do we like-"

"Dead frog?" The green haired fairy inquires innocently, magicking a slimy, repugnant specimen. It splatters on her face and leaves a disgusting, green trail behind. Ugh, boy or girl, that's still gross.

Shuddering, she ignores him and confronts Timmy. "I'm not going to tell you what to do but-"

"Good, don't tell me what to do. I don't need it right now!" Timmy snaps, springing from the seat. He spots a hurt look crossing Wanda's face and a twinge of remorse afflicts him. She was only trying to help...

"I'm going to go check on Trixie," She states stiffly, peeved but remaining civil. So he thinks he knows better than me? I was in the same position he's placing Tootie and Trixie in and look how much I like him now. I chose the green haired idiot over him.

"I'll go with you!" Cosmo grins cheekily and poofs needlessly next to her.

"I'd rather you didn't," Wanda replies, a trifle coldly. Darn, now she's doing the same thing as her godchild and scapegoating someone else. Poor Cosmo...she'll make this up to him later.

Head hung low, Timmy murmurs, "Sorry, Wanda..." Apparently, the thought occurs to him he might be causing Wanda's sudden mood shift.

Sighing softly, she accepts his apology and makes one of her own. However, she does not retract her statement- she will observe her alone. Cosmo would only serve as a distraction.

She vanishes, tracking Trixie by the almost imperceptible aura hanging about her. All humans have auras, unbeknownst to them and this aids their fairies in locating them. They just needed to locate the particular aura (when Timmy wished everyone looked alike, he accidentally erased others' auras, thus preventing fairies from finding their godchildren).

Cosmo gazes at the pink cloud, dissipating. What was that all about?

Dejectedly, aware he might have inadvertently caused a rift in his godparents' relationship, Timmy whispers, "I think I ought to go home now, Cosmo."

Waving his wand but improperly focusing, he takes them not to home, but to Rome, where an ancient gladiator fight occurs. They stand in the middle of the field, between two competitors, their blades drawn. If they don't move in a few seconds...well...Fairly Oddparents might need a new hero.

Cosmo hoots and proceeds to change his wand into a battle sword too, ready to take on both bloody thirsty contestants head-on. The thought never occurs to him they might just slice him in half and not think twice about it. Hey, when in Rome...

"Cosmo!" Timmy bellows, narrowly sidestepping one, charging towards his opponent. (The man doesn't even realize he's there). Trembling in fear, Timmy's eyes narrow angrily, terrified but also irked at the situation they are now in.

"Oops, sorry..." Waving his wand again, he takes them to a loan office, where a line of applicants goes out the door. Most are dot comers, whining about the internet and how good fortune can turn to misfortune.

"Home, Cosmo, home! Not Rome, not loan! HOME!" He bellows, jumping up and down. A few give him a sidelong glance, but most snicker and shake their heads. They don't see Cosmo; they only see what they deem a little boy throwing a temper tantrum.

This time, fortunately for both of them, Cosmo manages to bring them how, where Timmy finds a surprise waiting for him in the driveway...