Torque

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Watching his father completely obsess over Dinkelburg was a common occurrence in his life, but ever since the incident of finding out how absolutely "evil" Mr. Dinkelburg really was (er, it was really for Dad's own sanity that he still perceive their neighbor as a villain when really, the big-nosed neighbor was too affable and charitable to be deemed of any treachery) his Dad's accusations of the "true countenance" of their neighbors have become insanely and irrationally (and annoyingly) frequent. First it was the little old lady who's been living in the same little old house for the last two decades—and, according to Dad, is apparently planning on taking over the world with her army of cats; and then eventually it was the family just a few houses down with Christmas decorations all year-round who were apparently a group of blood-sucking vampires pretending to be elves; oh, and he would never forget the mundane family across the street who were clandestine supervillains out to destroy the entirety of Dimmsdale, their first target being the Turners.

Unfortunately, everything was spurned by a simple greeting and his dad's stupidity. His parents' lack of friends was justified in that sense…

Nonetheless, the young brown-haired boy almost always tried his best to ignore his Dad's silly trivialities, but more often than naught, he was almost always dragged along in a mission to uncover the "truth". Naturally, he wouldn't have minded too much. He did get to spend some quality time with his dad, which was too much of an uncommon event that he couldn't help but make the best of the situation. However, he didn't exactly enjoy having to dress up, especially having to cross-dress as a girl scout and infiltrate one's home, towing cookies with micro cameras baked inside whilst faking an unbearable "girl voice" all the while. Of course, that was the disguise that was most used—and, sad to say, the most successful—so that was what his Dad suggested he wear for most missions.

It was good that the costume was so convincing, though, or else Timmy wouldn't have an ounce of dignity left. Even then, donning the itchy wig and the frilly dress that made his bare legs shiver uncontrollably (even in the summer heat) wasn't very appealing and sometimes made him want to hide under his blankets for the rest of eternity. It was only by sheer luck that his friends… or, well, anyone from school that mattered… didn't live in his neighborhood. He could then safely assume his crucial roles in his Dad's undercover missions without any worry, happily laughing alongside his Dad whenever his ingenious plan somehow failed.

Timmy snickered at his muse as he grabbed the blonde wig from his drawer. Let's see what my dad has in store for today.

. . .

Upon walking downstairs, he was witness to his dad clad in an unbelievably posh black suit, his dark hair slicked back and shinier than Chip Skylark's teeth, and a monocle resting in front of his left eye. His mom was dressed in a similar fashion, with a strapless red dress that swept against the floor elegantly, her light brown hair curled into loose ringlets, and a penciled mole next to her heavily lipstick-applied lips. Timmy couldn't help but just gape at the scene before him, wondering how his idiotic parents were able to look sophisticated with just a few minor alterations to their appearance (though, he did seem to convince people he was a girl with just a too-small wig and a squeaky ambiguous voice).

Finally, after he snapped out of his short trance, he said slowly, "Mom… Dad… what happened?"

"Oh, Timmy," his mom replied ecstatically, clinging to Dad. "We've been invited to the ball just a few blocks away! Isn't that exciting?" she gushed happily, her eyes sparkling with a look that practically shouted scary socialite mode.

Timmy sighed and despondently looked to the ground. "Uh, I guess I'm not coming then, huh?"

His dad hugged Mom gently with a single arm and laughed heartily, grabbing a toy pipe from his back pockets and blowing into it like a child. "Of course you are, son! You're our ticket into getting in, after all!"

The boy wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or just downright insulted by that comment-slash-insult, but either way, he thought what his dad said was slightly suspicious. If he was the ticket into getting in, then there was something else that he would have had to do to actually become this "ticket," and the sole thought of the possibilities that entailed that was almost enough to make him faint. "Er, what do you mean by that?" he asked hesitantly, tugging at the blonde locks of his girl scouts wig.

"Well, son," his dad said, blowing into his pipe again. "The ball is going to be at the Buxaplenty's manor—"

And at that, Timmy blanched, turning completely alabaster like a marble statue. Just the mention of that surname brought irrevocably bad memories to his mind immediately, among other things, like feelings of shattered trust, of an insane rivalry connection that chained them together, and of a friendship that could have been. Timmy would never outright admit it, but he had always thought Remy to be one of the coolest guys he's ever met, and after everything the two have been through, he held a small hope in his heart that they would somehow end up being friends eventually. Though, after years of this useless hoping, he figured there was just no use and that their relationship would forever be just hateful rivalry—and, of course, the invitation to the ball was just another one of his schemes to rid Timmy of his fairy godparents, and once again, Timmy would inevitably foil his plans, only deepening their hatred for each other, and…oh, Timmy didn't want to think about him anymore…

"—and it's their kid's birthday. Rudolph Buxaplenty or something." His Dad took yet another blow of his pipe as Timmy both cringed and snickered at the mistake. "They're trying to find a princess for him, so all the girls in Dimmsdale are invited."

And at that, Timmy blanched again. "W-wait a minute. Does that mean I have to…?"

"Dress as a girl?" his mom finished for him, smiling softly. "Well, yes, but you should be used to that by now, right Timmy? Besides, I picked out the cutest dress for you to wear, and I even have this wig for you that matches your natural hair color, and oh! You can definitely borrow your father's make up if you need it…" She precariously held out the aforementioned items to her son, smiling crookedly. Timmy stared at the sparkly dress and the wig for a few moments before sighing and tentatively taking it from his mom's hands.

"When's this ball gonna start?" he asked half-heartedly, readying himself to trudge upstairs.

"In just two hours," his parents chirped together. Then, his mom said softly, "make sure you hurry and spruce yourself up, darling!"

"Yeah, yeah." He paused as if he was about to say something important, but then momentarily forgot about it and started climbing up the stairs. "If you need me, I'll be in my room. I'm using my own makeup."

He heard his parents' okay's and promptly walked into his room, hearing multiple poofs behind him. His fairy godparents looked at his dress and tried to surpass the inevitable snickers as best as they could, but Poof ended up breaking in a matter of seconds, provoking his parents to destroy their own restrictions. Timmy, his cheeks puffed up in anger, shot glares at the fairies and grudgingly sat down, tossing his outfit aside.

"This stinks," he said ruefully, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant manner.

Wanda, who was the first of the fairy trio to cease from laughing, floated towards Timmy and gave him an amused look. "Aw, what's the matter, sport? It's not like this is the first time you're wearing feminine clothing."

"That's exactly what my mom said." He sighed and stared at the dress on the floor, slowly picking it up and dusting it off nonchalantly. "It's not because of that, anyway. I don't really mind wearing girly clothes, and"—he shot looks at Cosmo and Poof before they could start roaring into laughter at Timmy's confession—"I'm kind of happy that my parents actually got invited to something for once in their lives. I mean, they were both so happy." He wrinkled his nose, shaking his head solemnly. "At least I'll get to spend some time with them. This is probably one of the only times they're actually letting me tag along to something and I'm taking full advantage of that."

Wanda made a cooing sort of noise, her eyes fluttering. Poof floated into her arms and she caressed him lovingly, and Timmy smiled at the warm and tender moment between mother and son. "That's sweet of you, Timmy, caring about your parents so much."

"Yeah," Cosmo agreed quickly, nodding fervently. "But if you're okay with all this, why're you still frowning?"

Timmy looked at his mirror and indeed, he was still frowning as Cosmo said. He prompted himself a forced smile, but it ended up looking like a slasher smile. "Um, well…. It's at the Buxaplenty's…"

Cosmo and Wanda gasped, Poof raising a lone eyebrow at his parents' bad reactions. "Buxaplenty? Oh, that's horrible Timmy!" Wanda said, completely horrified. Cosmo shivered and gently placed a hand on Wanda's shoulder, a bit of jealousy emanating from his eyes.

"D'ya want us to come along with you, Timmy?" Cosmo asked, raising his wand defensively.

"N-no, that's okay, guys. Really," Timmy said. "I know Juandissimo is probably at Cupid's since he usually is, but he might be at the ball, so I don't wanna take any chances. I don't want any drama between you three." He eyed the older fairies, who smiled sheepishly at him, as he quietly wished that he was "spruced" up. With a wave of three wands, Timmy turned from grungy, dirty boy clad in pink to a genuine-looking young girl wearing a glittery ball gown that swept across the floor and beautiful brown locks that curled gently around his waist. His make-up was even done for him, with coral lipstick applied on his thin lips, mascara and eyeliner and eye shadow accentuating his blue eyes, and a bit of rouge to give some life to his face. He looked at himself in the mirror briefly, awing his abilities of being able to pass as a girl. It was both useful and scary.

Poof giggled at his older brother's look and hugged him, Timmy hugging him back. "Well, I'm gonna be going, guys. I'll see ya later." And with that, Timmy waved goodbye to his godparents and slowly walked downstairs, his blue high heels proving to be a more difficult challenge than he originally thought. He winced at the prospect of having to endure these shoes for the entirety of the ball, but he figured he would get used to it soon.

Once he was finally in the living room, his parents were already rushing him into their car and drove all the few blocks to the giant, castle-like manor, finding that there were cars parked in virtually every place possible. The Turners luckily found an empty parking space and swiftly walked towards the giant white house, marveling at its grandeur.

A bouncer awaited them at the entrance and looked at them intimidatingly, looking at Timmy's shivering figure especially close. "What is the name of your daughter?"

"Tim—" Dad received an inconspicuous kick to the shin via Timmy, and his mom hurriedly blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Canadia!"

His mom gasped at what she said and slapped her hands on her lips while Timmy face palmed. Dad laughed, scratching the back of his neck when the bouncer looked at the family suspiciously. "Yeah, Canadia! We named our lovely daughter after one of our own states! Patriotic and all that."

Again, Timmy proceeded to slap his forehead, but decided to go along with it and giggled sweetly, making girlish gestures all the while. "I go by Nadine," he said when an epiphany suddenly hit him, glad that the bouncer finally scribbled his name down and let them into the house.

Geez, they weren't even at the ball yet, and it was already nerve-wrecking.

But, once the dysfunctional family entered the manor, it felt as if it was all worth it, because everything was just so beautiful, from the extravagant white velvet that laced around the entirety of the manor, everything adorned with intricate designs of gold. It was like the dream house of everyone in Dimmsdale, and possibly even the whole world, and all the Turners could do was gawk.

Then, Mr. and Mrs. Buxaplenty walked up to the three and shook each one of their hands with a single, abrupt shake, greeting his parents and beginning to talk with them using sophisticated, aristocratic language. The only thing Timmy could understand was "you have such a lovely daughter; Remy would surely love to mingle with her," which made Timmy's stomach lurch.

He quietly crept away from his parents as they were too absorbed with socializing and hid behind the refreshments, watching the rest of the people present. It seemed like practically everyone from Dimmsdale was here. Well, those who had a daughter, anyway (er, at least pretended to, in his case, and, much to Timmy's horror, Chester's; the latter's disguise consisted of a handmade, spaghetti-strewn wig and a paper bag dress, and while the wig looked appetizing, it didn't help much in concealing his true gender). He scoffed at Chester and decided to talk some sense into the blond boy, but in the process, he accidentally bumped into someone, causing him to fall over on his butt.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry…Timantha?" The sugary voice was all too familiar to Timmy: Trixie Tang. He accepted the gloved hand that was offered by the black-haired girl and gazed longingly at her. She was wearing a lavender dress adorned with pearls and white, lacy designs. He wished he could dance with her, the diamond of the party, sure enough, but he knew Trixie wouldn't agree to slow dancing with "Timantha".

"Timantha!" she squealed happily, holding his manicured hands in hers. Timmy felt like he was going to melt at the touch, savoring in the rare contact. "I thought you moved or something! I'm so glad we got to meet up again. Where have you been?"

"I, uh," Timmy stammered, feeling his cheeks become even hotter when Trixie closed the space between them. "Well, my family moved back to…Canada…because of relatives, but then we came back here. Just yesterday."

"Oh," Trixie said softly, a smile slowly forming on her face. "Well, I missed you a lot! We need to keep in contact, girl friend," she gushed as the two quickly exchanged phone numbers. Timmy relished at his good luck. He never would've thought going to the ball would bring him Trixie Tang's phone number, but he definitely wasn't complaining. In fact, all he could do was mumble nonsense as Trixie dragged him towards the dancing area, where Timmy's hopeful heart thought that they would possibly even dance. Best night ever!

Er, he spoke too soon, though. Trixie shoved Timmy in front of her, and much to Timmy's horror, he found himself staring straight into the eyes of his arch nemesis, Remy Buxaplenty, clad in his frumpy clothing and a snobby smirk.

"Oh, who is this, Trixie?" he asked, genuinely curious as he inspected Timmy. All Timmy could do was pray that Remy was just like everyone else in Dimmsdale and fall for his disguise.

Trixie smiled and lovingly put her hands on Timmy's shoulders, sending little sparks to rush through his veins. "This is Timantha, my best friend." Timmy smiled at that. If only she knew his real self. "She's amazing!"

"Hm, Timantha, is it?" Remy asked precariously, his eyebrows rising in suspicion. "I don't remember my bodyguard telling me that name."

"Er," Timmy said, trying to think of something to say. "My real name is actually…uh…Canadia, but Timantha is my middle name. Only my real friends call me Timantha."

At that, Trixie, bubbling in euphoria, hugged her best friend, and Timmy would've been jumping in mirth, too, if not for the look Remy was giving him. He couldn't really decipher that look as he'd never exactly seen it before, but it had a foreboding feeling to it, almost like something bad was going to happen, and figuring his usual luck with things, something bad definitely will happen.

"Hm. Alright then. It's nice to meet you, Timantha," he said in a mocking tone, making Timmy shiver. The rich blond looked at Trixie and gave her a charming smile, making her swoon. "I'm sorry, but would it be alright if Timantha and I had some time…alone?"

"Sure! I'll see you later, Timantha!" she said, squeezing Timmy's hand. Timmy didn't want to let go of her and wanted her to drag her away from the blond—anywhere far away from where he was right now—but Trixie broke contact too soon and Remy seized Timmy's other hand. There was no escape now…

Timmy was dragged into the very middle of the dancers, feeling suffocated at the amount of people that were around them both. The feeling was only made worse when Remy clasped an arm around Timmy's waist, tugging the brunet closer to his chest. Timmy never noticed this before, but he was significantly shorter than Remy was. He guessed he never noticed because the two were always too busy trying to kill each other.

The blond started swaying his hips back and forth in time with the ballad, and Timmy clumsily attempted to mirror his movements. Snickering softly at the failed attempts, Remy took Timmy's free hand into his own gloved one and whisked him away into a surreal twirl, Timmy's movements now matching Remy's. The two were in perfect tandem, very much unlike how they usually were, but Timmy didn't mind that; he was actually enjoying this, how he was so close to Remy without being subject to hurtful jabs at his dignity or backstabbing truths to his heart. It almost felt like the two had a connection other than being "rivals," but the bittersweet truth of it all was that they were rivals and they always will be. Remy didn't even know he was actually the one person who he was constantly trying to torture, and Timmy, too entranced in this poignant dance and wanting so badly to be close to Remy, complied, even when the hurt of this was piling up inside of him. Better that he got a chance to be with Remy for one night than never though, he supposed…

Just as the dance slowed to nothing but a few strums of a heavenly harp, Remy stopped and looked deep into Timmy's eyes, the preceding's green eyes intense with emotion. "Timantha," he whispered softly in her ear, though his tone was as strong and defiant as his pretty eyes and his grip on Timmy and his prolonged stare. "I…"

Timmy's heart was racing by now, anticipation evident in his shaking limbs.

"I love…"

Oh my gosh—Timmy thought over and over again, his mind dizzying.

"…how you're such a bad dancer."

Timmy's heart stopped at that moment and shattered into a million pieces, a blush eating his face up, his face a weird amalgam of embarrassment and anger and disappointment and even more anger. "Wh…what?"

"You're a bad dancer," Remy repeated, obviously amused. "You're the most horrific dance partner I've ever had, and believe me, I've had my fair share of bad dancers."

The red in Timmy's cheeks were an even more extreme shade than his own rouge, and all Timmy could think of was how much he wanted to slap that smirk off of his face. Right now. In front of anyone; but a force fettered his want to do something violent to the blond, and he instead opted to splutter out a mess of words that he himself couldn't make out. Remy, looking even more amused than ever, smiled and brushed his lips against Timmy's lipstick-covered ones, making the nonsensical string of words immediately die out.

"Hm, but that's alright, fair lady." His smirk grew wider. "You could convince me wrong of this, though, by showing me a different dance." Remy licked his lips suggestively, leaning close to Timmy's ear and breathing into it. Timmy yelped and weakly pushed the blond away, his head becoming dizzy of the prospect of giving his first kiss—or at least, that's what Timmy thought Remy was suggesting—to…to him. It scared him to think that a part of him wanted to set aside all morals and ethics and status quo and all that and just kiss that conniving, snarky, good-for-nothing rich boy right now.

But before Timmy could even think about doing just that, he heard his parents screaming his name ("Canadia! Canadia, dear!") and in an instant, he felt himself ripped away from Remy's warm arms and into his Dad's giant and less warm ones. Then, his parents both started running towards the door as if for dear life, and Timmy blinked back, looking at the blond boy standing all alone in the middle of the dance floor. Timmy felt a small twinge of melancholy as the two locked eyes for the last time; but Timmy, feeling too many emotions for his own good in just a few moments, looked away, not being able to bear looking at the boy.

Remy just stared off at the boy and smiled sadly. "Bye, Timmy."

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I was originally going to have Timmy dress up as a girl scout and give Remy cookies, hence the beginning, but...well, I don't know. I guess I was stuck on this ball idea. I'll probably write one about girl scouts later.