Disclaimer: Sure. I don't claim Phineas and Ferb in the least. This fanfiction's mine, though. Here we go!
For the fifth time that week, Phineas Flynn sat up in his raft of a bed, breathing heavily. Why was this happening? He groaned silently, wishing that he could do something to stop these almost night terrors, but ideas tended to elude him in the middle of the night, like most normal people. He silently rose, attempting not to wake up his sleeping stepbrother and pet platypus, who shuffled around in their bed slightly. He wasn't certain what he was going to do when he got to the kitchen, but he knew whatever it was it needed to happen.
He staggered down the steps and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. Leaving them on the table, he began to make some tea to keep him up. He smiled when he thought of helping Isabella and the Fireside Girls that morning get their "Interpretive Dances of Foreign Countries" by holding a huge dance pageant. He was still sore.
Weird how it had suddenly disappeared, but he'd learned not to question that sort of thing; it saved him time on cleanup.
Grasping his tea tightly despite its temperature, he set it down and got to work staring at the paper, attempting to will words to appear on the page. Suddenly, as if some 'Finally-Get-An-Idea-Inator' hit him, he got his inspiration.
Without even thinking, he headed the paper he was about to write Isabella.
This shocked him a bit. Why would he head a paper Isabella? Why not Buford or Baljeet or Ferb, for God's sake? Pencil still in hand, he sipped his tea and began rubbing his temples. Why was she on his mind so much?
"Because you're growing up, Phineas," Ferb's quietly accented voice called from behind him. Phineas nearly leaped out of his skin, but settled after his brain made the connection that it was only Ferb.
Turning around, he got a good look at Ferb's usually impassive face, to see a slight smirk on it. "What do you mean? Of course, I'm growing up. We get older every day. But that doesn't explain why I like Isabella so-" He cut himself off there, realizing what he had just said.
Ferb's smirk only got larger. "Sometimes you have to spend a few sleepless nights to achieve happiness. I imagine this will only be your first," he said, not at all joking. "I only hope you know what you're doing."
At that, Phineas let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and turned back to the paper, his back now to Ferb. "I don't...know, Ferb. It doesn't make sense; this is the first time I haven't gotten something. Mom always said I spoke and read before the rest of the kids my age, I learned how to sing, speak Spanish, play guitar, build cool stuff...all of it came so easily to me, but now...this? Why Isabella? How can I not know the answer?", Phineas nearly shouted, frustrated beyond his belief.
Phineas felt Ferb's hand grasp his left shoulder. "Like I said, a few sleepless nights. They happen to all of us, but ultimately, they're worth it." He let go of his stepbrother's shoulder and stalked back towards the stairs. Stopping at the landing, he called back to Phineas. "By the way," he said, grateful the dark was hiding his expression of amusement, "you are a frightfully poor sneaker." He went up the stairs and was gone.
Phineas, on the other hand, had his trademark grin on his face, but this time, accompanied with eyes from which he had to blink back tears. He steadied his shaking arm and grabbed the pencil, ready to write.
Isabella, it said, so he wrote is...
Dropping down a few lines, he began with CUTE. Really, really cute. The type of cute that makes your breath catch in your throat and your heart flutter a bit. He underlined it twice. But that was a mistake if he thought he was going to go to sleep any time soon. Cute was the perfect springboard, and ideas began flying into his head at Mach 5.
Isabella is...
CUTE,
smart,
clever,
confident,
happy,
selfless,
loyal,
trustworthy,
fantastic,
fascinating,
unique,
impeccable,
generous,
diligent,
persevering,
friendly,
perfect.
He found himself paused at that last one. Could anything really be perfect? He didn't quite know the answer, but he knew that if anything could be, it would be her. He thought of all the times he'd taken her hand, all the hugs they'd shared just over the summer, and he knew he'd take none of them back. He knew that she was his second best friend in the world, in any world, and he wouldn't change that for anything. He found himself smiling, and taking another sip of tea, he got back to writing.
But what he wrote next was flabbergasting. High on the feeling of sorting, and categorizing things, he then scripted:
Pros and Cons to Beginning a Relationship with Isabella
He stopped writing, and simply stared at the paper (which was now very nearly full) and at his empty cup. He stared back at the paper then the cup, again and again.
Finally, he chose the cup to refill with tea, while he mulled over the topic he'd just written about. Usually, he was the idea man, and that involved writing down any and all ideas he had, so he wouldn't forget. That being said, he didn't usually write for any other goal. He found his topic now to be so engaging, though, that he felt he would be able to stop writing about it.
Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had, for as long as he'd lived in Danville, been the girl across the street, always there, interested in him and what he's doing. Everything he did was always better when she was there. Phineas couldn't imagine a world where she didn't exist or they had never met-and it hit him. Not a small fist-sized hit, not even a hit the size of a car crash. No, it hit Phineas like a thousand tornadoes, like two colliding planets, like a punch to the face. Somewhere along the course of their friendship, Phineas realized, he started to love her.
Energized and a little dizzy, Phineas set down his tea hastily and greedily began writing once more.
Pros and Cons to Beginning a Relationship with Isabella
Pros:
I love her.
I'd be happy.
She's perfect for me.
We'd be together forever and ever and ever and get married and have kids and have grandkids and tell about Kermillian's Comet and
He stopped there, knowing he could continue that sentence forever. He wrote one more pro, the most important of all.
And whatever we do, we'll be doing it together.
He smiled impossibly wide, letting the tears come to him gently. He wiped off his eyes, making sure they didn't get on the paper. He didn't even bother to write any cons; anything he'd write, he'd just cross off. He folded it closed and gave his cup to the robot they'd made earlier that week. It cleaned the cup with ruthless efficiency and stacked it precariously on top of the other dishes.
He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the little robot cleaner behind its ears, causing it to emit a low hum, like a purr. He loved inventing. He loved his family. He loved Isabella.
He loved Isabella! Like electricity shooting down his spine, he kept repeating it, enjoying how it sounded in his head. I love Isabella. I love Isabella! I really love Isabella! He felt like leaping for joy, but instead he ran into the garage, his mind already formulating precisely how and when he was going to tell her that. She'd be so surprised, but everything would turn out in the end, like it always did.
He hovered above the tools he stored in the garage. He was going to make something for her. Something she'd love, something he'd be proud to make for someone as marvelous as Isabella. He remembered what his stepbrother had just told him, and he shook his head, still smiling and began working.
This was a sleepless night well spent. Carpe noctem.