I will be posting these as the chapters get written. I don't have a specific schedule or anything, but since this is a shorter story, it won't take me too long to finish. That, and the inspiration for this fic is still rather fresh, so the idea isn't tiring or just mulling about in my mind.

When this is over, I'll still be working on my Doctor Who ficlets, but I've been thinking more and more about The Secret Files of Former Agent D, which is something I've been meaning to finish for a while now. Wanted: Dead or Destroyed is also going to be re-written and posted again at some point, so don't worry about that.

Anyhoo, onto the chapter!

God bless and have a great day (or night)!

ThePro-LifeCatholic

I don't own Phineas and Ferb, its characters, its episodes, or feature-length film in fabulous 2D.

Phineas cracked open his eyes. Morning had come soon after he had fallen asleep a second time, and there had been no more nightmares to disturb his rest.

Well, probably time to get up and dressed, ready to join Mom, Dad, Ferb, and Candace downstairs for mandatory Doof-Brand cereal before heading out to the living room to sit on the couch all day.

As he pushed back his covers, Phineas was struck with sudden realization. There was no Doofenshmirtz! No rules to follow and no mandatory breakfasts to eat! The red-headed boy leaped out of bed, bare feet slapping against the floor boards. Grabbing his pillow, he stealthily made his away across the room, closing the distance between himself and his brother's bed.

*FWAP*

Ferb sat bolt upright, blinking rapidly. A handful of feathers floated gracefully down from the ceiling.

"Morning Ferb," Phineas said with a laugh.

Ferb glanced sidelong at his brother before quickly slipping out from underneath his blanket and grabbing his own pillow. He landed a concentrated blow directly on top of Phineas' head. The room exploded into a blur of feathers.

"Oh, you're on!" Phineas shouted. Taking a hold of his own pillow, Phineas leaped up onto his bed and spun around several times before letting go of his makeshift weapon. The pillow sailed over Ferb's head, and the green-haired boy smirked. Now his younger brother was not only weaponless, but dizzy as well.

"Hold up, Ferb!" Phineas stuttered, shaking his head. Ferb opted to completely disregard his brother's request. Instead, he jumped onto the bed with the intent of knocking Phineas face-flat on the mattress. Some miscalculation must've been made when he performed his jump, for although he managed to tackle Phineas, they both ended up going over the side of the bed and hitting the bedroom floor.

"Phineas, Ferb!" The bedroom door was flung open, and their older sister, Candace Flynn, was standing in the doorway. She rushed over to where her brothers were lying on the floor. "Are you alright?" she asked, the words tumbling over each other in her concern.

Phineas, underneath his brother, was shaking with laughter. Ferb grinned and gave Candace a thumbs-up.

"We're fine, Candace," Phineas gasped. "Get…off…me…Ferb!" Curling his legs up against his chest, Phineas gave a mighty shove, pushing Ferb onto the floor beside him. Candace's expression softened.

"What were you guys doing, anyway?" she wanted to know.

"We were having a pillow fight," Ferb answered, his mild, British voice standing in stark contrast to Phineas' naturally loud, unaccented exclamations. He picked up his pillow and threw it onto his bed.

"Well…" Candace mulled over her brother's response. "Alright. Just be careful. I don't want either of you getting hurt."

"It's fine, Candace," Phineas said again, fluffing his own pillow. "We're not doing anything dangerous. But why do you have your bo staff?"

"Uuuh…" Candace glanced at the metal pole in her hand, eyes widening as if she had just realized that she was holding it. "I just…well…it never hurts to be prepared!"

"Oh." Phineas wasn't sure what to say, so he directed his attention to his bed. "Ferb and I'll be right down. We just have to make our beds and get dressed."

Candace watched her brothers begin their usual morning routine. Slowly, the frown on her face was replaced by a smile.

"You know, Phineas and Ferb," she said. "You don't have to make your bed."

Phineas and Ferb looked up at her sharply, surprised etched into their expressions.

"But, Candace," Phineas started, "This is what we've always done! It's part of mandatory morning chores, and-"

"And nothing," Candace broke in, holding her hand up. "You don't need to follow any mandatory routines. Not anymore. C'mon, it's not like you're breaking any rules. Just this once."

"Well…" Phineas scratched the back of his head, an action he performed if he was nervous or unsure of himself, "Don't Mom and Dad like it when our rooms are clean?"

"I'm sure they can deal with it for one day. And besides," here Candace leaned forward, voice dropping to a stage-whisper. "I didn't make my bed this morning, either."

Phineas and Ferb looked from her to each other, their eyes wide with disbelief. "Really?" Phineas breathed. Candace nodded solemnly. Then Phineas smiled, his blue eyes sparking with merriment and a hint of mischief.

"Okay, then."

"If you wanted to," Candace continued, straightening up, "You could eat breakfast in your pajamas, too." She twirled her bo staff several times like a baton.

"If it's all the same to you, Candace," Phineas replied, "I'd rather have my clothes on. That way, Ferb and I can get started on the day right when we're done eating."

"Good enough reason for me," Candace responded, planting her staff on the floor. "But hurry. Mom told me she was making a surprise breakfast, and I have a feeling it won't be blueberry muffins." With that, Candace spun on her heel and marched from the bedroom. Phineas and Ferb exchanged a look. Then they rushed to their dresser, yanking out their Dooferalls and starting an unofficial competition to see who could get dressed and downstairs the fastest.

"Hey Mom!" Phineas shouted, sliding into the kitchen. Ferb was directly on his left, rushing across the tile on his stomach. Linda Flynn-Fletcher jumped backward, arching her back and executing several spins as her sons charged into the kitchen, one in front of her and the other coming up from behind.

"BOYS!" she screeched. "I'm holding a hot pan! Watch yourselves!"

"Sorry, Mom," Phineas stuttered, coming to an abrupt halt. "Ferb and I just wanted to know who had gotten into the kitchen first."

Their mom sighed, adjusting her grip on the panhandle. "I'm sorry for yelling," she apologized. "You took me by surprise, that's all."

"We won't do it again," Phineas promised, walking into the dining room with Ferb in tow. "But who got out here first? It was me, wasn't it?" Just then, Lawrence Flynn-Fletcher stepped into the kitchen. He had a stack of plates in his hands, with five plastic cups precariously balanced on top of the plates.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Phineas, but I think Ferb-o was just ahead of you," their father commented. His voice had a British accent, characteristic of the two original "Fletcher" members of the family (Ferb and his father), who had come from England. Phineas, in response to this news, faked a despondent cry of despair and fell dramatically to his knees. Ferb rolled his eyes, and Linda and Lawrence laughed at the antics of their sons.

"Alright," their mom stated, placing a large platter in the center of the dining room table, "Come and sit down. Breakfast is ready."

"What did you make?" Phineas wanted to know. He could hardly contain his excitement and curiosity. He couldn't think of a time when he had felt so eager about anything, and looking around the table, he realized that this was the first time he had seen his whole family smiling and gathered together. Candace would often take her food to her room, or simply wouldn't show up for meals. Dad was often working at the factory, and Mom would quickly finish her food and disappear to some obscure area of the house. And Perry…

…Well, now he could forget those days.

Candace had just entered the kitchen. She was dressed in her Resistance outfit, minus the sunglasses, bo staff, and belt of grappling hooks that was usually hanging from her waist. Time and again during the past two or three weeks, their mother had expressed her discomfort at Candace carrying weapons around the house. So Candace left them in her room most of the time.

"Now, Phineas and Ferb, I'm not sure if you'll remember these," their mom was saying as she plopped thin circles of golden fried dough onto each plate, "But Candace, your father, and I certainly do."

"Pancakes!" Candace exclaimed, actually looking happy for once. "We used to have these every Saturday!"

"Pancakes?" Phineas poked his with a fork. "What do they taste like?"

"Why don't you try it and find out?" Linda suggested, sitting down and beginning to pour syrup on her own serving. "Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro had some syrup stashed away, and she was gracious enough to let us borrow some. I expect all of you to write her thank-you notes to take to her later today."

Phineas and Ferb directed all of their attention to their plates of food. Cutting off huge chunks, the step-brothers simultaneously stuffed large bites of pancakes into their mouths. The syrup was cold and sweet, and the pancakes themselves were still warm, and had a fluffy, dense texture.

"They taste like muffins," Candace commented, disappointment seeping into her voice.

"I know," Linda said apologetically, pouring herself a glass of milk. "I don't have any pancake mix, so I thought I would try using the pancake-flavored muffin mix instead. But your father and I were thinking about going out today."

"Go out?" Candace dropped her fork onto her plate and looked up sharply. "Where? For how long?"

"Danville Mall is re-opening today," Lawrence explained. "We were thinking about going shopping for groceries, and clothes for you three."

"Clothing might not be available yet," Linda interjected, "But we definitely need to find a new rug for our living room. See, last night, there was an unexpected accident-" She snapped her mouth shut in mid-sentence as Perry ambled into the room. He was on all fours, his tail raised slightly to keep the sharp spike on the end from dragging along the ground.

"Morning Perry," Phineas called. Perry stretched, yawned, moved one paw up to rub his one good eye, and fell forward on his bill with a grunt. Phineas and Ferb slid off their chairs and raced over to their pet platypus.

"Are you OK, Perry?" Phineas asked worriedly. Together, he and his brother hoisted the platyborg to his feet. "Must be hard to balance all that metal, huh?"

Perry shook them off, growling in frustration. As he stood up, sheets of metal seemed to sprout from nowhere, covering his left arm and paw in black and grey pieces of machinery. He stalked into the kitchen and began rooting through the cupboards, opening and slamming their doors noisily. It wasn't too long before he emerged again, holding his food bowl in his right hand. He presented it to Phineas, who smiled and took it to the table.

"Is it alright if Perry has some pancakes, Mom?" he asked.

"I don't see why not," Linda replied. Perry watched expectantly as his owner dropped several pancakes into his bowl. Instead of setting it on the floor, however, Phineas placed the bowl on the table, next to his own chair.

"Come on, Perry." He patted the chair.

"So, boys," Lawrence said, "What are the big plans for today?"

"Well," Phineas started, trying to speak around a mouthful of breakfast, "Some of the Resistance members are coming over today. Buford offered to break up the cement in our backyard. That, and we wanted to brainstorm ideas for an ultimate summer-time experience."

As Phineas was speaking, Perry was trying to get up into the chair. Unfortunately, due to the large metal plate on his chest, it was proving to be a rather difficult task. Backing up, he leaped into the air and fired up his rocket-foot. When he was directly above the chair, he turned it off and plummeted to earth. He smashed down on the seat, sending pieces of wood and plastic flying in all directions. Several long moments of silence passed before Linda sighed and wrote something down on a pad of paper next to her on the table.

"We should also look for chairs while we're out," she murmured. "Well, we'd better get a head start, Lawrence. Since it's re-opening today, it's going to be packed."

"Good thinking, Dear," Lawrence replied. He and their mom headed to the front door.

"Mom, Dad," Candace called, following closely behind them, "You're not taking your travel papers with you, are you?"

"Oh," Linda pulled the small booklets out of her purse and rubbed them between her fingers. "Well, Candace, we can't be too careful, now can we?"

"Mom." Candace pulled them out of her mother's hand and placed them on the stand next to the door. "Doofenshmirtz is no longer in charge. The Normbots were all destroyed. You don't have to worry about it."

Their mother sighed and smiled, placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "You're right," she conceded. "I'm leaving you in charge. Have fun and stay safe! We'll be back later this afternoon."

"Bye Mom and Dad!" Phineas waved from the table. Linda and Lawrence stepped outside and closed the door behind them. Candace locked it and headed to the kitchen.

"I have to use the phone," she said.

"Why?" Phineas wanted to know. He began clearing the plates off of the table. Ferb was helping platyborg clear up the remains of the chair.

"I need to let Jeremy know that I can't go to his house this morning," Candace explained, dialing Jeremy Johnson's number into the device. "I'll be busy watching you guys. You can wait for Buford in the backyard if you want."

"OK, Candace." Phineas dropped the stack of plates into the sink and dried his hands off on a towel. Ferb had finished sweeping up the slivers of wood and had neatly disposed of them in the trash can. Phineas inspected the dining area, trying to place his finger on a detail that didn't seem right.

"Hey," he started, glancing around the room. Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the *buzz* of their doorbell. "I'll get it!" Phineas yelled, running to the door. When he got there, he came to a screeching halt. Unlocking it, he opened the door as little as possible, peeking through a small crack at the newcomers.

"Baljeet!" he exclaimed warmly, opening the door. "Come on in!"

"That's Doctor Baljeet," the Indian boy muttered. "I've brought along Buford, as well."

"I'm ready for the day!" Buford said gruffly, shoving past the skinny doctor and showing himself in. Slung over his shoulder were several pickaxes. "So, let's get started, shall we?"

Buford carries pickaxes around for fun. After all, he loves breaking stuff for the state. Or just breaking stuff in general for anyone, for that matter.