Disclaimer: No, I don't own Phil of the Future.

A/N: Okay, I get into this weird mode where I'm obsessed with a specific show and/or couple for a period of time. Apparently right now I've set my sights on Phil and Keely. This is a fluffy one shot future-fic based off the episode Gramps of the Future.

Thanks to those who have reviewed my other fics :) I appreciate the feedback!

XXX

Pickford, California, 2014

Phil Diffy sat restlessly on the dark red overstuffed loveseat couch placed in the center of his living room, just a coffee table and a little walking space on both sides of it between he and the television. The remote control to turn the TV on rested innocently on said coffee table, untouched. The house was small, smaller than the one he had lived in for the first fourteen years of his life, smaller than the one he had lived in from ages fourteen to eighteen, but this house was cozy; it was home.

A lot of things had been plaguing Phil's mind lately, especially in the last three months, causing his unrest. He'd been stressed over work, becoming a person involved in the behind-the-scenes aspect of showbiz much more difficult than he'd expected during college. He'd been stressed over money, balancing and calculating for hours on end, trying to figure out how to pay off this newly-bought house while affording everyday-needed items plus two (used) cars (though luckily one had been a hand-me-down gift from his parents) and the tuition for his graduate degree in Film Studies at the local college. He'd been stressed over his middle-aged neighbors two doors down the street who went away every weekend, leaving their teenaged children home alone to have loud and obnoxious parties late into the night. He'd been stressed over the twice-a-day phone calls he'd been receiving from his mother and the unusable advice he'd been hearing from his father. He'd been stressed over Pim's insistence to move east to complete graduate school and the problems that issue had created in his family.

Ironically, the thing the twenty-four-year-old was least stressed out about at the moment was his new marriage, which most newlyweds would have at the top of their list.

There was something, though, about his recent nuptials to the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen that bothered him. He hadn't given it much thought since his sophomore year of high school.

Why hadn't any of the Diffy clan disappeared yet? Why hadn't anything seemingly been altered in their lives, changing their family's entire history? Why hadn't his marrying Keely just three months ago made any sort of impact? What about the time-space continuum and all that jazz?

It wasn't that Phil was nitpicking his life. No way, he was beyond thankful for everything he'd had so far in his existence in the twenty-first century, and could never dream of exchanging it for something else. He had been happy with high school, pleased (and frustrated) with college, overjoyed with his new wife and lucky to have his family.

But that still didn't stop his mind from wandering, from wondering what event would be the thing that screwed up his entire future, his family's entire future.

It's moments like these where Phil has some down-time that he realizes he never really cared that much back in 2121 about his family's history, about lineage and maiden names and dates of birth and marriage and death. He never wanted to research anything about his history. His parents were his parents, his sister was his sister, and his grandparents were his grandparents, end of story. He'd only been interested in the historical side of the past, never of the Speckle/Diffy angle.

Phil rubbed at his sore neck, the hours of flipping through stacks upon stacks of papers about different television and movie producers, how they reached their profession levels, tips on starting off the career, plus his school homework, was finally taking its toll, making him feel exhausted. With one arm up and the other carelessly placed on the couch armrest, the young brown-and-white cat Keely had insisted they rescue from the pound a month ago took up residence on his lap, her tail swaying lazily.

Phil tried to remember the last time he'd seen Kyle Speckle. It had been right after the prankster had been expelled from H. G. Wells and just as he had begun pursing Petunia. He wondered idly if Kyle and Petunia had gotten married yet, if they had a young son who would become Barbara (Speckle) Diffy's grandfather. He didn't feel like attempting to do the math right now (Phil was sick of crunching numbers).

He let his hand glide over the furry cat's back and she purred softly. Though his mind was somewhere else, he still heard a car come down the relatively quiet street (except for those damn teenagers; hadn't their parents ever heard of a babysitter?), heard it pull into the driveway, heard the driver kill the engine. Phil tried not to smile too big as he listened to the door open and heard a voice ending a conversation. Heels clicked against the wood floor and then there, in front of him, was his beautiful wife, staring at the cell phone in her hand in annoyance and mumbling angrily to herself. The cat perked up, and then jumped off of Phil's lap to greet her other owner by circling around Keely's legs.

"Hey," Phil said simply, and the smile was taking over his face. He couldn't help it whenever she was around, even after ten years.

"Hi," she grumbled as she threw her cell phone into her purse, and then the purse onto a nearby chair. She fell back on the other end of the couch with a plop, swung her legs up onto his lap, and blew her blonde bangs out of her eyes. Phil let his hands fall onto her ankles. "What a day I've had. Those stupid guys at the station didn't think the story I had done for next week was 'what they were looking for'," (at that she deepened her voice in a mocking way), "so now I have to either go out and find something new in five days or use one of my back-ups. Oh! I nearly forgot," Keely said suddenly, and turned her head towards Phil to give him a peck on the lips. After letting out a long sigh, she asked, "So how was your day?"

"Oh, fine," Phil began with a shrug. "You know, class from ten to twelve, meeting with my professor after that, a dozen calls from my parents complaining about how stubborn Pim is being over moving east, some research for the show- speaking of, I never thought being a key grip on a television set involved so much work-, uh, another dozen calls, this time from Via, all of them her trying to reach you, though I don't know why she called here instead of your cell because she knew you were at work…"

Keely looked surprised at all of this and shook her head with a small chuckle. "Geez, you've been busy, obviously. So what are you doing now?"

"Contemplating my existence."

His wife (he loved referring to her as that) laughed again. "No, seriously, hon, you looked a little preoccupied when I walked in."

"Well… I was thinking," Phil stated.

"Oh," Keely replied. "About what?"

"The future. My family. Why not one of us has disappeared yet because we stayed here in the past."

Keely's eyes widened and she placed her hand over Phil's, his arm stretched out across the back of the couch. "Oh, Phil," she said sympathetically. She had been so good with keeping his secret for so long; at this rate Phil felt as if she knew him better than he knew himself. "Why are you worrying about that now?"

"I dunno," Phil answered, flipping his hand so his palm was pressed against hers. "Y'know, I just sort of randomly thought of Kyle Speckle the other day. Remember him?"

"Your great-grandfather we had to get expelled from school? Of course."

"I wonder if he's married Petunia yet."

Keely nodded. "Well, I'm assuming he did, because you haven't disappeared. Oh, no, did you get that weird transparent-y thing again?" She looked at him worriedly.

"No, nothing like that," Phil reassured with a slight frown at the memory. "It's just… I don't understand how my family could've decided to stay in this century eight years ago and not have had any trouble at all. How have we not interfered with anything?"

"I don't know," Keely said quietly, her eyes still on her husband.

"It's so complicated to think about," Phil continued. "I mean, I went to school with my great-great-grandfather. I'm going to be alive when my mom's grandfather is born."

Keely seemed to miss his point. "So?"

"So… how do I know I'm not related to my family? How do I know I'm not just me, but I'm also my second-cousin twice-removed or something?"

"You don't," Keely said with a shrug. "Did you ever check your genealogy when you lived in the future?

"That's just it!" Phil declared, shaking his head, glancing around the living room before settling his gaze back on Keely. "I never checked. I never cared."

"Well… I'm not exactly an expert on this sort of stuff, obviously, but maybe if you had looked… you would've seen a Phil and Keely Diffy in there somewhere, tracing us to the future too?" Keely suggested, unsure.

Phil let out a gust of air tiredly. "I guess we'll never know."

"Eh, that makes all of this more fun," Keely said, trying to brighten his mood. She lifted their entwined hands and kissed the top of his affectionately.

A sudden smirk appeared on Phil's face. "So, when you said 'tracing us to the future'… are you implying we'll have kids to carry on the Diffy name one day?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Keely feigned nonchalance. "I suppose we'll just have to see." She smiled at him. "Kids could be nice one day. Who knows, maybe we're your dad's great-grandparents."

Phil laughed. "I hope not. That would just be too weird."

"Ugh, all this future talk gives me a headache," Keely said dramatically. Turning more serious, she leaned back even further into the pillow her back lay against and attempted to assess Phil's mood. "You know, you and your family probably haven't disappeared because you belong here."

"What do you mean?" Phil questioned, letting his head fall back and rest against the back of the couch. He watched Keely, waiting for her reply.

"Well, it must've been destiny, or fate, or something like that," she explained easily. "You were meant to get stuck in 2004, you were meant to stay here, you were meant to meet me." She added the last one a little quieter, a little shyer, and Phil found it cute that she was still adjusting to married life just as much as him, the freedom of saying just what they wanted still new.

"You're right," he decided then and there. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I'm not gonna worry about the future anymore. I'm just going to live my life. It's gonna come as it does and I can't do anything about that."

"Good, I'm glad you've come to this conclusion," Keely said, her eyes closed. "Man, I'm tired," she mumbled.

"And if I do start worrying about the future, I give you the right to yell at me and tell me to chill out. You can even force me to sleep on the couch."

"I will."

They're silent, enjoying this peaceful moment not often found in the young Diffy household. There's always phone calls and work and homework and people stopping by and the cat knocking something over.

"Do you think my life is just a cycle?"

"Phil," Keely sighed, "you said I could force you to sleep on the couch when you started talking about this?"

"No, I know, it's just… do you think one hundred years from now my fourteen-year-old self is going to go on a family vacation and get stuck in 2004 and meet you? And then everything I'm living now and going to live will all be repeated, over and over again, until the end of time? Maybe my life is just one big giant never-ending cycle."

Keely opened her eyes again and lifted her head. She let her thumb skim across the side of his hand, still placed in her own. "I don't care if there's an infinite number of cycles, as long as you and I end up together in each one."

"Keely, Keely, Keely, if you aren't careful I'm going to have to ask you to marry me," Phil said jokingly, but he leaned far forward and kissed her to compensate.

"Okay. Are you good now?" Keely asked, lifting her legs off of his lap and letting go of his hand to stand up. "Because I am dying for some Italian and if I remember correctly, you make a mean spaghetti and meatballs."

Phil stood also with a smile and kissed his wife once more, unable to resist the opportunity. "Only if you make the garlic bread."

"Deal," Keely agreed as they headed into the kitchen, Phil's arm around her waist.

"So… about that kid discussion…," he started with a smirk, but she just lightly shoved him.

"Get cooking, chef Diffy," she responded with a wink.

Phil Diffy didn't feel so restless anymore. When he glanced at his wife of three months, he actually felt very, very content.

He could worry about the future tomorrow.

XXX

End.