Note: And thus, I enter the world of Winx Club long-fics. Wow. (glances about) This is so exciting! Now, I know none of you have really been anticipating this unveiling, but I have, and I'm psyched beyond belief to finally get this baby posted! So without further ado, I give you my Timmy x Tecna Romance/Humor/Adventure/Thing to enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Winx Club. Not even a club in general. I should start a club, though...maybe the, um, Sphinx Club? O.o
PS: I watch the dreaded 4kids version. So forgive any discrepancies.
Computers. Cell phones. Videogames. Practically anything with a screen, I'm comfortable with. Error 404? I've got it under control. Blue screen of death? No problem. Spam? Don't make me laugh. It's all logically processed, kept in a structured line, and that's what I love about technology: order.
So spontaneity…well…throws me for a loop.
"So good of you to visit, Tecna." Flora smiled at me, and I smiled back, suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of flowery perfumes. It coated the air with a sticky sweetness, and I had to fight the urge to sink into a comfortable chair and sleep under the dizzy scent of nature. There was no technology to be found here, and I felt alien.
My friend, however, glided about this tree-dwelling home with ease, and occasionally stopped by a nearby plant (there are infinite amounts of them) to inspect a leaf or sprinkle some water on its roots. I sat myself down on an unsteady, but comfortable, willow chair and waited for her as she skips into the back room.
"Herbal tea?" she called, and I shook my head. Flora bounded back in with two cups anyway, and she sat herself across from me, smiling. "That's alright, sweetie. In case you change your mind, there's some here for you. Now…what's the matter?"
And I blinked at her, wondering if I should just recap the obvious, or tell her all about the past five years married to the man of my dreams, and the misunderstanding that threatened to drive that all apart.
Chapter One: Immaturity
"Honey, are you awake?"
I'd laughed, Timmy still half-asleep as he called his question, and replied, "The better question would be why didn't you wake up earlier, Timmy?"
He stumbled into the room, fuzzy slippers poking underneath striped pajama pants as he rubbed his bleary eyes. The kitchen smelled absolutely lovely; I'd punched in some buttons so that our self-cooking microwave could whip us up a delicious batch of oatmeal. On the table, I'd left some other delectable goods: French toast, scrambled eggs, and some sugary cereal Bloom had sent us from Earth. Timmy took in a deep breath, inhaling the smells, then scratched his head.
"Tecna…have you been cooking?"
"Partially," I admitted, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "And I hope that you don't mind that I turned off your alarm last night; I figured you deserved to sleep in on your birthday."
He sat himself down at the table, and I brought the oatmeal with me as I sat across from him, beaming. Timmy took a spoonful of scrambled eggs then paused mid-way to his mouth. "When you say partially—?"
"—I let the machines handle it," I explained, and knowing his food was safe, he ate freely. To be fair, I'd cooked a few good meals before…I'd just cooked more deadly ones. However, that's technology's job, is it not? If the machine can cook just fine, well, why risk mine and Timmy's health with my experimentation? Besides, it got incredibly humiliating when company was over…
"So any plans for the day, Timmy?" I inquired, and he wiped his mouth with a napkin, squinting at me without his glasses. "Sky has let you have the entire day off for your birthday, and if he can spare a day without his Royal Strategist, you can spare a day for yourself."
He took a few more bites of the eggs, followed by toast, before he replied. "Tecna, I—I don't know. I'm only turning twenty-five—"
"—which is a milestone," I reminded him. "Why, don't you suppose there's anything you'd like to do to celebrate? Perhaps a day at the beach, or…?"
"Actually," Timmy replied with a grin, "there's this new videogame at the arcade, and I'm almost positive I can beat you at it, Tecna."
I narrowed my eyes at him and sipped my orange juice. "Chances of that, Timmy, are less than five percent. And shouldn't you be thinking of something a little more…I don't know…adult?"
"Adult?" Timmy repeated. I nodded and picked up some French toast—something Stella had once recommended to me—and took a decisive bite.
"Frankly, Timmy, we're getting too old for this, aren't we?" I explained. "Shouldn't people our age be doing more meaningful things than virtual reality games?"
For a second, my husband's face scrunched up in thought, then relaxed as he chuckled. "I'm only one year older, Tecna," he grinned. "I haven't changed that much, have I?"
For those of you wondering, I did in fact beat Timmy at that new game, but that wasn't my point. As the bright lights flashed in the arcade and the pulsing music blared in our ears, I kept glancing his way only to frown and look back at the screen.
Oh, I loved videogames as much as him; I wouldn't deny it. Yet there seemed something so juvenile about spending one's twenty-fifth birthday at…at a…a children's arcade! The crowd cheering as I won was made up of high-schoolers: fairies and specialists too young to share this day with. To be honest, I felt…old.
"Great time, huh, Tecna?" Timmy exclaimed, locking the house door behind him. I shrugged lightly and sank myself down in my chair, chin propped on my hand. Well, no one could deny that my husband was absolutely glowing with joy, but was it so wrong to wish for a more mature day together? More romantic, even?
A hand alighted on my shoulder, and I turned Timmy's way to see his eyes squinting in concern. "You okay?"
"Of course I am."
"No, you're not," Timmy insisted, sitting down beside me. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, and I watched as he continued, "Your leg is doing that—that swingy thing—"
"What swingy thing?"
"—that you always do when you're irritated."
"I do not swing my leg when I'm irritated!" I scoffed, stopping my leg mid-swing. "Timmy, don't be ridiculous. We had a lovely day together, you and I. It's just…"
Timmy raised his eyebrows. "Just…?"
"Just odd," I admitted. I stared at the wall, industrial art cluttering the walls in a somehow organized manner, and explained, "Timmy, you and I, we aren't kids anymore. We're adults. And what are we going to do when you're not turning twenty-five, but fifty? Bring out dance mats and test our achy joints?"
"And when people ask us what we did for the Day of the Rose, we'll just tell them we spent it beating up virtual monsters and unlocking cheat codes!" I exclaimed bitterly. More bitterly, in fact, than I had intended. "We're always just hanging on technology, you and I—but I'd thought today we'd actually do something sophisticated!"
Standing up, I paced the room, continuing in my tirade. "People our age book reservations at fancy restaurants and order things they can't pronounce! They take long walks on the beach even though they'll get bitten by bugs, and they go on long vacations at resorts and—and they don't do this!"
I swept our boxed leftovers off the table—pizza—and glared at him, more furious than I realized I could be. Timmy simply blinked at me, stunned, and I caught my breath. Oh, this fury was senseless, I could tell, but it melted away quickly enough into defeat when I saw his widened eyes. I let my muscles relax as I sat down beside him again, cradling my head in the crook of his shoulder under a sudden weight of guilt. "Timmy," I whispered, "do you think…we'll ever grow up?"
"Statistically," he murmured, "it's bound to happen."
I snuggled closer. "And Timmy?"
"Statistically, what are the odds of you forgiving me for my completely uncalled for outburst?"
His arms tightened around me, and he laughed gently in my ear, tickling me. "I'd say they were pretty phenomenal."
"Even though I forgot your birthday cake?"
"Well." He grinned and wrapped his arm about my waist. "There's always time for dessert."
I wish I could say that patched everything up. But as time passed, we went to our separate jobs, and came home exhausted; I suppose there was just no time to argue. Each of us worked as Royal Strategists: he for Eraklyon, I for Sparx. Some days we'd come home so terribly tired, all we had time to do was exchange notes and fall asleep on the couch. Of course, that resulted in stiff mornings and grouchy breakfast conversations, but the beauty of that is if you argue when you're half-asleep, odds are you'll forget all about it in an hour or two.
"Darling, where are my glasses?"
I smoothed my skirt and turned to him, calling, "I believe I saw them on the bathroom counter. Check by the sink."
I slipped on my shoes—very professional and business-like heels—just as my husband stormed into the room, glasses hurriedly perched on his nose. I sighed as I took in the sorry sight of his tie and tied it with precision and accuracy. "Dear, this is bordering on pathetic, isn't it?"
Timmy grinned his goofy grin, and I giggled, finishing it with a smile. "Well, at least I've got a girl who can help me out with a tie or two."
"Try a tie or two dozen."
He kissed me gently on the mouth, and I felt a slight tingle shoot through my spine. In high school, I'd have given anything for Timmy to be this open about his feelings, but the best things come with time. Once you've given someone everything you are, suddenly little things like kisses come easily.
And it's easy to be distracted by your husband's disaster of a collar in mid-peck.
My hands reached past his shoulders to adjust it, and he pulled away, an unspoken question on his lips. "Well, you don't expect me to let you go to the royal court dressed like that, do you?" I demanded. He eyed me suspiciously, then smiled as he hugged me close.
"See you after work," he assured me, and added as he turned to go, "Oh, and don't make any plans for tomorrow."
The request peaked my curiosity, but I merely nodded. Timmy wasn't one to drop surprises like this, and if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he'd be sure to answer my questions later tonight.
You wouldn't consider working as a strategist for a dead planet to be much of a difficult task, but I've simply had my hands full for the past two years. Sparx may have a small population, but it's grown due to recent tourism; all sorts of fairies, witches, and heroes are curious despite themselves, wondering if this great kingdom could have somehow stumbled back onto its feet. Despite the low chance of success, it most certainly has.
The combined powers of Bloom and Stella have had the astonishing effect of thawing the entire planet at a slow, but impressive, rate. Solaria's sun and the Dragon Fire are an incredible convergence to witness, and the green tufts appearing on the planet's barren soil are a result of Flora's kind efforts. It's an inhabitable place, now. And if the combined appeal of a newly born planet and the crowning of its famed heiress weren't enough to draw attention, Musa always books a day in her famed tour there each and every summer.
So what is my job, you ask? I've settled into an old room of Bloom's castle and created an office of sorts for me to invent and devise. "I want this place to be protected," Bloom admitted to me, begging for my aid. "I don't want it to fall a second time. You're the only person I'd trust with this, Tecna. I wouldn't know where to start, myself."
That was how the S.D.W. was born, or, more simply put, the Sparx Defense Wall. For months, I agonized over research in libraries and exhausted the knowledge of Professor Faragonda of Alfea and Ms. Griffin of Cloud Tower. If I were to create a shield to defend Bloom's home, it'd need something more durable than that which had been used in the past for our old schools. Something sophisticated. Intelligent. Impenetrable.
And since I would be creating it, I knew it would be technology.
My brainchild coats over Sparx like an unseen haze, each particle a living, breathing form of technology instilled with Winx. A password would be too easily breached, so I built it to only respond to the commands of previously approved ships of friendly nations. More specifically, a single company's transportation: Timmy's. To be frank, working with Bloom is a lot like working with my husband, as the work of Sparx tends to directly correspond with Eraklyon's. After I casually mentioned the problem of finding a way to ensure only the passage of non-hostile ships, Timmy locked himself in his office for the rest of the night, drawing the blueprints of the Timecna Travel Agency.
What's revolutionary about this Travel Agency is that it can only enter Sparx when scheduled, and that if the need ever arises, the setting can be adjusted to only allow leaving, and not allow anything inside. Of course, the ships are incredibly hard-to-manage ("If they were easy, Tecna, anyone could just steal one and get inside Sparx!"). I even have trouble from time to time.
It's worked, much to our satisfaction. Rather, rather well.
I swiveled in my chair round and round as I eyed the glowing buttons and knobs with a familiar swell of pride. I had built this incredible creation. Me, Tecna. I didn't think a day would go by without me admiring my handiwork—my life's achievement.
Bloom leaned against my chair with a grin, and flicked back her long, fiery red curls. The trials of high school had given her an almost regal bearing, and I blinked at her—it's a terribly dark room at times—before I returned the smile. "Ah, Bloom, it's unusual to see you at this time of day. How is everything?"
"Everything is honestly amazing," Bloom admitted, eyeing my work office. "Wow, Tecna, I still don't know how you remember which button does what. I'm almost afraid I'd blow something up if I clicked anything!"
"Oh, I highly doubt that." I chuckled. "I trust the meeting with the representatives of the Fifth Moon of Marigold went well?"
"Incredibly. Once they saw how well Tides, Solaria, and Eraklyon were doing trading with us, they just had to agree. Our economy is going to do awesome!" She winked. "And it helps that Flora put in a good word for us."
"Oh, I'm sure that had a little something to do with it." I knew Bloom well enough that I could see just how terribly she was itching to talk about something other than politics and technology and economics, so I sighed and asked, "I suppose that's not why you're here, is it?"
"Well, no. I mean, I wanted to tell you that, but there's something else." She cocked her head at me. "Is everything okay between you and Timmy?"
My husband's name startled me. "T-Timmy and I?" I sputtered. "Bloom, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Everything is fine between us."
"But you haven't even interrupted me to talk about all your plans with him tomorrow for your birthday!" she blurted out. "I mean, I'm not going to drive it out of you if you don't want to tell me, but you're obviously not doing something with the girls and I, so I'm just curious if you're doing anything at all." Bloom stared at me and gave me a weak smile. "And you've been swinging your leg as you swivel in that chair, which makes me think something's up."
"I most certainly do not swing my leg, Bloom!" I retorted as I planted both feet on the ground. "And to be honest, I…have no idea what I'm doing tomorrow. Timmy is being most mysterious on the subject, and I suspect it's because I was quite rude to him on his own birthday. Frankly, I forgot tomorrow was my birthday at all until you mentioned it."
Terribly humiliating, that. I should know the day I was born, shouldn't I? It was so unlike me, being this unorganized. Maybe I'd forgotten to check my calendar, or perhaps the tune-ups on the S.D.W. were draining me more than I knew.
Yet Timmy hadn't forgotten. What had he said, again? 'Don't make any plans for tomorrow'?
"Well, even if you forgot, I'm letting you have the day off, Tecna," Bloom assured me. "And if Timmy's being mysterious, well, maybe he's just planning a big surprise for you?"
As much as I love Bloom, she hadn't the foggiest idea how rare surprises can be in a marriage. She and Sky had remained in a perpetual high-school-romance ever since graduation, and had been engaged for so long people started to whisper that maybe the bride was getting cold feet. On the contrary, Bloom had insisted she wouldn't become Queen of Eraklyon until Sparx was completely restored. (When that happens, it's possible either I or my husband will be out of a job. I'd rather not think too much about it, though; plus, I can't imagine Bloom or Sky having the heart to fire either of us.)
"Maybe…he's decided to take me to the arcade?" I added, trying to sound optimistic. The word arcade came out flat on my tongue, and Bloom gave me a quizzical look.
"An arcade? Really? Sky always takes me to these posh places, like exotic beaches, or fancy restaurants. I always end up ordering things that I can't even pronounce, but they're just so delicious! Sky is such a sappy romantic," she giggled. "But I think it's totally sweet of him."
The chances of Timmy transforming into a sappy romantic in my lifetime were second to none. But I didn't tell Bloom that.
"Perhaps it'll be better than I expect," I conceded, and for the rest of the day I tried to block images of well-to-do restaurants and resorts from my mind. Timmy could have learned from my little temper tantrum, but that was laughable. People didn't remake themselves so completely so soon. And besides, there was something endearing about Timmy constantly blundering and erring in the ways of social behavior; it was one of the things I loved best about him.
Still. If tomorrow I woke up to see a mature and romantic breakfast for two, I'm fairly sure I'd love him even more.
"Can I open my eyes yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Tecna, I said no! Now stand still for a second."
The warm touch of his hands on my face vanished as he pulled away, the odd sounds of objects clunking together the only clue as to what the Magix my husband was doing. I was tempted to open an eye, but being a stickler for rules everywhere, opted not to. While the world was dark and blind, this could still be a trip to the Resort Realm. Dinner at the palace of Tides. A long romantic walk around all our old haunts.
Light blinded my eyes and I gasped, at first perceiving a big, beautiful airship and instantly forgiving him for all my misconceptions. A vacation, just the two of us, a vacation! "Oh, Timmy!" I cried, flinging my arms about him. "It's wonderful!"
"I knew you could appreciate it," my husband chuckled. "It's a little rusty, and the controls don't work, but that's the fun part."
My forgiveness was slowly being replaced with skepticism. I pulled away from him, and glanced once more at my present. Oh, it was a ship alright: a dying, absolutely useless piece of junk useful for only rebuilding and part-scavenging. A technical challenge, not a day at the beach.
"Isn't it sophisticated?" Timmy pressed. "Isn't it a mature gift?"
"Erm…" Sophisticated, no. Mature, no.
But at the very least, it's not an arcade.
End Note: Bwahaha. I hope Tecna isn't OOC here, but I can see her struggling with Timmy's inner child and her own desire to have a normal relationship for once. Also, do expect the genre to be Romance/Humor/Adventure, because later on, there shall, indeed, be adventure. And the other Winx girls will all get to shine.
(Oh, and snaps to anyone who wasn't bored to death by the S.W.D. explanation. It's necessary, promise.)
Review if it pleases you. :D