Author's Note: This will probably remain a oneshot, simply because I don't have the time with all my other stories to work any more on this idea. (I say 'probably', because there's always a chance I'll get hit by a brainstorm and just HAVE to continue.) Just one of those ideas that kept bugging me until I wrote it down. Well, hope you all enjoy!

I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to let all my emotions out like a normal ten year old boy and just act like a BRAT. In short, you could say I wanted to have the freedom to act like my sister.

My fifteen year old sister, who was strangely taking this all very well. In fact, she just nodded as mom cheerfully delivered the news at dinner. Continued texting her friend Stacy on her cell, as if this was something she'd seen coming for a long time. And who knows? Maybe she really had.

Was I the only one that didn't even know mom was dating that English guy that kept popping up?

Am I really that stupid?

"Phineas, honey? You okay?" mom asked, probably catching the surprise in my expression. Though certainly not how upset I was – I'd learned long ago to hide that deep away under lock and key. You've GOT to, with a single mom, after all. I mean, I am… was… the man of the house. Right?

"Of course, mom! Never better!"

"You're fine with this, right? Lawrence is a wonderful man, and you two seem to get along just fine."

"Absolutely, mom! Why, I've never seen you so happy! You're just shining with this magnificent radiance that lights up our whole house! If Lawrence can do that, I'll gladly call him dad!"

Mom laughed and cried at the same time. Overwhelmed with her own happiness, with believing that we could have a better life with a man that loved her just as much as our real dad.

Maybe more. Heck if I know. He was dead by the time I was two. And she and Candace didn't really talk about him much.

All I knew was that I must not have been as important as I'd thought to my mom. I wasn't enough. And never had been.

After keeping my perfect smile and sparkling eyes in place all through dinner, making all sort of inane and excitable chitchat about how long they've been dating and when the wedding was, stuff that I honestly wouldn't remember later, I hugged and kissed her goodnight. I also hugged Candace, then ran off to take a shower before bed.

I always went first. Our schedule had been set in stone for years – as it has to be, in a family of three living in a small two bedroom one bathroom apartment. Candace and mom need a lot longer in there than I do. Not sure about Candace… something to do with her hair. But mom likes to soak the stress of her sixteen hour shifts away at the end of the day.

For the first time, I couldn't wait to get in. Because in there I could drop my mask, and grab my head, and grumble and curse and cry for a full five minutes. Long as I was softer than the shower.

All that work. Those literally hundreds of hours I put into my various schemes and projects… and most not entirely legal for a ten year old – though I'd made sure to factor in loopholes so that I wouldn't get in any real trouble. The fourteen thousand dollars I had saved up in my secret bank account since I started putting my ideas into action… that now I certainly couldn't show, let alone give her. The blueprints for our dream house, that would never be built, for we would be moving into his family's home.

Income. A home. Stability.

In the end, he had given it all to her. Not me. Because I was just some bratty ten year old that couldn't even take care of his own mom. If I tried now, she'd probably be horrified instead of thankful. A painful lecture instead of a delighted hug.

Or perhaps I was throwing everything on to his shoulders. Things that had nothing to do with him. Why hadn't I ever given her any of the money I made? Why had I opened that secret account? Why did I keep my blueprints locked up in the chest on my side of the room, and only work on them when Candace wasn't around? I kept telling myself that I'd show them soon, just a little longer, just until I reached my next goal. First it was three hundred dollars. Than a thousand. Ten thousand. Somehow my next goal had become eighteen thousand.

The amount we would've needed for the little three bedroom, two bathroom house I'd been keeping an eye on that just went up for sale. Sure it was a fixer-upper, but I could've had that baby the jewel of the neighborhood inside of a month.

Right?

Wrong?

I had no idea. And now I'd never get a chance. Because of him? Because of me? I didn't know.

All I knew was that it hurt.

"Good morning! My name's Phineas! Pleased to meet you!" I greeted the strange green-haired boy, holding my hand out to shake. Knowing my flawless sunny mask was firmly in place.

Ferb's face, that hadn't shown the slightest expression until now, tightened a bit. His eyebrows creased together in a frown, and he glanced down at my hand before dismissing it. He tilted his head slightly, setting one hand on his hip that I couldn't help but notice was WAY below where he'd cinched his belt.

"You don't like me, do you."

I didn't put a question mark there. Because he obviously didn't mean it as a question.

But my performance was flawless, naturally. Mom hadn't heard, but she could turn her ears this way, away from her conversation with Lawrence, any second.

I laughed. Of course I did. It's what I always did to throw people off. My cheerful, sunny, perfectly innocent schoolboy laugh.

"Of course not, Ferb! Of course I like you! We're supposed to be brothers, after all!"

"It's no big deal. I don't like you either. You or that stupid excuse of a sister you have."

This time I know my eyes flashed in rage as my smile froze. Instead of revealing such a thing anywhere near my mom, I put on a face closer to a pout.

"Now, now, there's no reason at all to say things like that! We're going to be family after all!"

Ferb actually rolled his eyes, looking like he wanted to gag. Then he dared, dared, to grab my arm and drag me off. Candace and mom didn't even notice, or maybe didn't care, as I was yanked away, half-dragged up the stairs of this way to huge for two people house, and into a room that was obviously his personally.

And yes, I'll admit, it rankled me that he had his own room, having had to share mine with an admittedly excitable teenager of the opposite gender these last five years.

"There, you can drop the act, Phineas," he said dismissively, shoving me towards a large chair in front of a computer desk, complete with the latest computer. He himself plopped on the full size bed, laying back and staring at the ceiling.

"What act?" I asked, letting a hint of laughter into my voice, a confused smile flicker across my face.

"Don't DO that!" he growled. "I can spot a faker anywhere! How the hell does your family live with a liar like you!"

That did it. But all those years bottling my emotions up wouldn't allow me to say anything in response. Plus my paranoia from living in a tiny apartment was in full bloom – my mind kept whispering that this conversation was dangerous, asking what would happen if mom or Candace walked in or heard from the other side of the door.

"Obviously you're mad at my dad for stealing your mom away. Can you possibly be more of a stereotypical mama's boy? You'll just have to live with it. I'm not happy with my dad choosing your mom either, and I certainly am not excited about the idea of having your family move into our house. Your sister's a numbskull, your mom's boring, and you are a fat-headed brat just dying for the world to finally notice you."

I clenched my teeth to keep myself from shouting my own accusations at him. He was obviously waiting for me to retort.

Trying to pick a fight. Just like those bullies at school. Well, coming from a single-parent family, I certainly knew how to deal with that, even if this was a bit more personal than I was used to.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and swallowed down all the bitter words I wanted to say. Then I opened my eyes, gave a slight smile at his smirking form (totally thinking he'd one-upped me), and shrugged.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Then I spun around, ignoring his stunned expression, and calmly walked out.

In case you're wondering, no, I've never had bully problems. Because I never have to say more than one line to them.

As I opened the door, my mom's voice called up with uncanny timing.

"Boys! We're going to go grab a pie! What flavor would you like?"

"That sounds great, mom!" I cheered, jumping down the steps two at a time. "Anything sounds good to me! How about pecan?"

I would've preferred apple. But I'd heard mom say the other day that Lawrence and Ferb loved pecan.

After all, they're the family mom chose. And like Ferb had said, I'll just have to live with it. And I'd much rather paint on a smile than make my mom cry.

The wedding was two months later. If anything, the relationship between Ferb and I deteriorated until we were barely speaking to each other – which I much preferred, as then he couldn't say anything that would upset my mom or make Candace suspicious. As it was, she spent her days ignoring me and glued to her cell, and I'd like to keep it that way.

I continued my schemes. By the day of the wedding, I had my eighteen thousand and then some. I debated getting the house anyway, but decided against it. There was no point, and I'd never be able to escape to work on it. Especially since I discovered I'd be sharing a room with Ferb.

His dad came up with the idea, and mom loved it. There was room in the house for us to each have our own, but this way they had a guest room and den, and apparently it was a great idea to get us to 'bond as brothers'. Obviously our parents weren't blind to the block between the stubborn and quiet Ferb and my more boisterous self, much as I tried to make everything seem just perfect.

Anyway, Candace was the flower girl slash maid of honor and Ferb was the groomsman slash best man. They offered to find a place for me, but then they'd have to partner me up with one of my cousins I barely know, so I just said that it was really no problem and I could get better photographs this way anyway.

Yeah. Photographs without me in them. It hurt a lot more than I thought it would, not standing in the aisle with them. At least I was in the family photo at the end.

Even Ferb was smiling during the reception. His dad was beaming. Mom was glowing. Candace even sang for them. She's got a great voice, you know? Even Ferb looked impressed, and everyone applauded. I put on the show of my life, figuratively, dancing and laughing and chatting along with the rest. And a literal show, though certainly not the best in my life, just a little magic with some handmade tricks I'd invented myself. Enough to keep the guests and my family entertained and keep the mood of the best day in my mom's life as high as possible.

Plus, as you all should know by now, I LOVE being the center of attention.

For some reason, Ferb glared at me after the show from the side of the stage and demanded to know how I'd done some of those tricks. I shrugged him off with an "a magician never reveals his secrets!" and a showy swirl of cape and top hat that had the still watching audience laughing and cheering. Why such a thing would bother him, I had no clue, and I honestly didn't care.

Later, when asked the same question by Lawrence, now 'dad', I'd laughed and told him honestly that I made up the tricks myself, even showing him a couple of the simpler ones. He'd smiled gently and happily, giving me an impressed, though mild, "Well, look at that!" and called Ferb over. Ferb's eyebrows actually raised as he examined my simpler 'magic tools' with quite an intent look, then demanded to see the others in an oddly interested tone. I would've refused, as it would kill any future shows, but Lawrence was still there, so I 'happily' obliged, even explaining how each worked.

Strangely, I started to relax only then. With all my tools and whatnots scattered on the table in front of me, some half taken apart as I explained, with ever increasingly in-depth detail, about how each worked. Answering his intelligent and quite knowledgeable questions, with not a trace of irony or rudeness in his tone. It was a new experience for me.

It didn't hit me until quite a bit later that our conversation had easily hit university level mechanical and chemical terms somewhere down the line. And my new dad had sat right there, completely unphased, simply happy that 'his boys' were finally getting along.

The next day was moving day.