Saturday 12th February

Ferb could smell bacon.

In itself, that wasn't that weird. But why exactly could he smell bacon in bed? They'd decided against a breakfast maker in the bedroom after the incident where it exploded and coated the whole room in baked beans and Worcestershire sauce. Phineas wouldn't be stupid enough to try that again. Actually, he probably would be.

After several minutes lying with his eyes closed, Ferb decided he should probably investigate the bacon smell, and went to remove his duvet. It was around this point that Ferb realized he was not in his bedroom, but lying across the sofa downstairs.

Also, his head was killing him.

Ferb blinked his eyes opened to the blurry sight of the living room. He groped for his glasses and put them on, squinting at the clock.

Who cooks breakfast at 6:30 in the morning?, Ferb thought.

Why do I even bother asking.

Ferb stood up, steadying himself on the wall as the blood rushed from his head. The sun was barely up, and an orange glow silhouetted the branches of the tree outside. It was probably a pretty sight, but the light just burned into the back of Ferb's head like a laser beam. He shuffled into the kitchen, trying to remember where they'd left the hangover pills. As he rounded the corner, however, he was met with a cacophony of sounds and smells that he really wasn't ready for. Sizzling pans, the whistle of a kettle, toast popping, the radio blaring out pop music while Phineas stood staring at a cookbook while stirring a bowl of pancake mix. Ferb stood in shock for a second, before shaking his head and going for a glass. His brother didn't notice him until he'd turned the wrong tap on and burned his hand, exclaiming loudly.

"Oh hey Ferb!" he said with a criminal level of cheeriness. Ferb gave him a-what-in-fuck-is-going-on look.

"I am practicing."

Practicing?

"You'll see," he said, ladling the pancake mix into the pan.

Right. By the way, do you know where-

"They're in the medicine cupboard, top right." Ferb shuffled over to the cupboard and pulled out the jar, grimacing with anticipation at the prospect of taking their hangover cure. It was really the must *adult* thing Phineas had ever invented, and it was less for him and more for their friends - despite the fact that teenagers can basically withstand most things, a little help in the morning never hurts. They did not taste nice, which was why Phineas sometimes called them 'comeuppance pills'. It was a fitting name, Ferb thought as he forced himself to swallow the damn thing.

It wasn't nice, but at least the light wasn't trying to kill him anymore. Furthermore, the fog had cleared enough from his head to grasp that Phineas was making food. A great deal of food. At 6:45 in the morning. A multi-tiered frying pan had sizzling piles of Bacon, sausages, mushrooms and even Haggis, while a special contraption turned out every kind of egg know to mankind, the toaster, suddenly expanded several times, popped out crumpets, toast and bagels, and intervals and then preceded to butter them with two extended arms that then stacked them high on a small plate. Phineas seemed to be sticking to the known laws of physics, however, for the pancakes, and one standard size frying pan was being handled by him for the intricate art of pancake making.

Phineas?

"Yes, brother of mine?"

What are you doing?

"Well," he said, tossing a pancake, "I thought I should practice making breakfasts."

"Practice making breakfasts?" Ferb said dubiously, pouring himself a coffee.

"Well you know how Dad says that the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach?"

You're taking relationship advice from the man who only clocked mum loved him when Love Handel basically yelled it at him?

"Shut up." Phineas said "Anyway, I thought 'where better to start but breakfast? So I'm making breakfast for you, Buford and Isabella? It's gonna be awesome!", he gesticulated at the myriad of breakfast foods he had at hand.

"So, to practice for making a romantic breakfast for Isabella, you're making a semi-romantic breakfast for Isabella?"

Phineas narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What makes you think this breakfast is romantic?"

"You've written her name and a heart in whipped cream on a pancake," Ferb pointed out.

"No, I-" Phineas looked down at the plate, "Quiet you." Ferb giggled silently. "Well at least I'm getting good practice runs in," he said, scraping the whipped cream off.

"Aren't you assuming a lot here by practicing for something that may not even happen?"

"What do you mean 'may not happen'?"

Ferb paused for a second. "Well, what if your big dramatic declaration of love falls flat?"

"Why would it fall flat?" Phineas said, dishing food without looking up.

"What if she finds it obnoxious? What if she doesn't want a big dramatic thing? You remember what always happens with her birthdays, you want to end up like that with something this big?

"What's wrong with the dramatic?" He gestured to the symphony of breakfasting that surrounded him. "I like the dramatic. When required, I am the dramatic."

"I think that might be part of the problem."

"Part of the problem?"

"Well-"

"Ferb, when have any of my 'dramatic projects' ever failed?"

"Do I need to remind you about Isabella's 15th Birthday?"

"No."

"You get the point then."

"Yes." Ferb raised an eyebrow. "I do!" insisted Phineas. "I was being crass. I didn't know what I was doing then."

"And you do now?"

"Why are you questioning me now?" Phineas huffed as he dished food. "You were the one who put this idea in my head, who helped me come up with it, but now it's 'you're not doing this right, you're gonna screw this up'. Just let me do the right thing for Isabella for once in my life."

Ferb paused for a second, then sighed. Alright.

"Thanks." Phineas went to say more but then heard the ungainly thumping of feet on the stairs before Buford. long hair frizzed up and eyes wild, thundered into the kitchen. He stared wild-eyed at the two of them.

"I smelled bacon," he said, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Good morning to you two Buford," said Ferb

"BACON," he insisted.

"Over here, Buford," said Phineas, passing him a plate which Buford attacked with his bare hands, munching with his mouth open. Ferb sighed, and picked his plate up and passed through into the family room. What am I going to do? I should do something. I can't watch him fuck this up. I'm running out of time to do something, but I'm pulling up blanks on what to do this time. He sighed. God, usually I'm good on this.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ferb looked up to see Lawrence standing over him in his dressing gown, tea in hand with paper under his arm.

"Oh, good morning Father," Ferb said, smiling weakly before going back to pushing Phineas's food around the table.

"Had a good night?"

"In a sense," Ferb said without looking up from the plate again.

"Good of you chaps to clean up," his father said from behind the paper.

"You know we always do."

"Better than I was when I was your age," Lawrence said. Ferb hid a smirk. Ferb heard footsteps in the upstairs hall.

"Saw Buford in the Kitchen. Is that Buford or Django?"

"Isabella," Ferb said dryly.

"Well," Lawrence said, "Some progress at last."

Ferb rolled his eyes. "Phineas slept in that chair dad."

"Ah," he sighed. Isabella came trotting down the stairs, humming slightly. "Morning Isabella," Lawrence said.

"Oh, good morning Mr. Fletcher!" she said cheerily.

"Up to much today?" he asked, sipping is his Tea.

"Oh, not much," she said awkwardly, glancing awkwardly in the direction of the kitchen where Phineas and Buford were chatting loudly about something banal."Just, work and stuff, mum might need me at the restaurant. Y'know, the usual."

"Sounds like a quiet day then."

"Something like that," she said smiling slightly. Lawrence didn't reply, and she took the chance to slip into the kitchen where her voice still mingled in with the other two.

"Are you sure Phineas slept down here?"

Ferb gave his dad a look.

"What? I'm a parent, it's my job to pry," huffed Lawrence. "I mean considering that Phineas is a bit less clouded in childlike thoughts these days…"

Ferb gave his dad a what-are-you-on-about look.

"Well, I've seen the way he looks at her these days. He thinks other people don't see it but," Lawrence tapped his nose, "I have my ways. I might be seen as 'Mr. Slow' in this household, but I have noticed that snippet."

"If only she'd notice," Ferb said, gazing idly at the kitchen.

"Well the targets of affection usually are, until poof!" he made a dramatic gesture, "they're not, and everything precedes as nature intends."

"But what if it doesn't?", Ferb muttered

"What do you mean?"

Ferb at his father. "Everything preceding as intended. What if it doesn't? You've noticed us working on his big Valentines' thing, right?"

"I've heard you at it in the garage," he said with a hint of annoyance. Ferb brushed passed it.

"I'm beginning to think that it might be about to go horribly wrong."

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"What if Isabella reacts badly? What if Phineas handles it badly? They'll both suffer for it either way," Ferb leaned back and ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "I just have this terrible feeling something bad might happen, that'd ruin their relationship as friends- or anything more - forever. I mean they've been dodging the obvious for what, 10 years now? It's not like there isn't some latent anger built up somewhere between those two waiting to boil off."

Lawrence nodded as he spoke, then gave Ferb a pensive, thinking look before saying, "That's a bit of a pickle, isn't it." Ferb watched his father take a long draught from his mug, before sighing. "They'll sort each other out in the end."

Ferb looked at his dad, pensively. "Seriously?"

"As you said, it's been a decade. They're best of friends, they've been through thick and thin together, I think they can survive the rough and tumble of love."

Ferb gave him a mildly exasperated look. "Yes but compared to some of the stuff we've been through, this is so simple-so simple that I think they could just overcomplicate it."

"Love is not very simple Ferb," he said standing up, "and that's something you only learn through age, experience and a great deal of trial and error." Ferb looked at his father, bemused. "What? I thought that was rather good."

"I suppose it was, but I wasn't ready for it at 9:30 in the morning."

Lawrence smirked at this. "I'm going to go get your mother up," he said and walked upstairs, waving hello at Buford as the large Football player staggered past him carrying a glass of water and a comeuppance pill. He glowered at Ferb, then forced the pill down, chugging the water before leaning back and belching cartoonishly.

"God, that feels good," he said, sighing.

"What does."

"My head not hurting. Hangover's bad enough, but even sober Buford can't handle those tso long in a room with the lovebirds," he said jerking a thumb at the kitchen, where Phineas and Isabella stood flirting at each other, both oblivious to the other's intentions.

Ferb sighed. "What am I going to do Buford," he said, toying with the lukewarm eggs.

"Do about what?" Buford said, stealing a rasher of Ferb's bacon.

"What do you mean 'do about what?'" Ferb said indignantly. "Them!" he said, pointing into the kitchen. "Those two idiots and their self-destructive tendencies!"

Buford shrugged. "Not ma problem." He munched for a second. "And probably not your either."

"Phineas is my brother, and Isabella is our friend."

"Hey hey hey, Buford ain't Izzy's friend."

"Buford, this is not the time for your 'Harry met Sally' spiel about the fact that men can't be friends with women, it's not funny and it makes you sound like a right twat." Buford stared at Ferb in slight shock. "Sorry, I'm just not in the mood for it today."

"Are you seriously this worked up over those two?"

"Yes?" Ferb scoffed. "You saw the level of craziness Phineas has gone to with his plans for Monday."

"I wouldn't say it goes beyond his normal level of craziness Ferb," Buford said

"Yeah, but this time he's not doing it because he likes being crazy," Ferb hissed, "he's got emotionally invested in this one working. This. Never. Happens. Because Phineas has a tendency to blow up when he gets emotionally involved with inventions that go wrong. And Isabella.

Buford nodded slowly. "And ya think that cos Izzy doesn't think Dinnerbell could ever figure out he likes her on his own, she's gonna do some crazy stuff to keep him for herself? That's a bit far isn't it?"

"Because when that goes wrong we're the ones who are going to get caught in the blast radius, and you and your edgy hot takes will be the first one Isabella comes for." Buford seemed unfazed by this assertion.

"Well I'll burn that bridge when I get to it, but for now I think we just have to watch. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You haven't spoken to Adyson recently have you Buford," Ferb said dryly.

Buford gave him a tedious look. "Whaddaya think?"

"Isabella has enlisted all her friends-sans us lot, of course- to help her not only figure out who Phineas's Valentine is but to stop him from performing any romantic acts for her."

"She's plotting to ruin her own valentine's day?"

"Uhuh."

"And no one has thought to tell her not to."

"Buford, do you live with your head up your ass?"

"Mostly," he said, still unfazed. "So she's ignoring the obvious?"

"Yep."

"Ya can't do anything to fix this Ferb. You know, Unstoppable forces and impractical objects."

"Immovable, Buford, Immovable," Ferb said, sighing.

"Whateva. Point is you're just gonna have those two butt heads first before they'll love."

Ferb looked at the two of them, laughing awkwardly in the kitchen. "You really think so?"

"Not rocket science, is it? They're too in love to believe that they could actually fall in love."

"Since when were you an expert in love, Buford?"

"Since when were you, mint-hair?"

"Touche," replied Ferb as Isabella and his brother walked into the living room, smiling, holding plates piled high with food. Buford went to say something snarky but was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Several swift barks from the other end were followed by hurried apologies as he scurried out the front door. The three of them looked after him. "Well, I guess we won't be seeing Buford for the rest of the day then," said Ferb, sipping his coffee. Isabella smirked and sat down on the sofa. Phineas sat next to her, slightly too close. Ferb saw Isabella's hand go for Phineas's subconsciously, then snatched back at the last moment, her face lighting up red as she saw Ferb watching them. Phineas didn't notice or at least pretended not to.

Despite last night, and the awkwardness of the last week, they seemed to be back in form this morning. Phineas jumped right into his usual semi-monologue about design and invention, cut in frequently by Isabella and infrequently by Ferb. It was comfortable and relaxing, and before long the food was gone and the coffee had gone cold, but the patter of flux capacitors and Jefferies tube realignment and the best way to get the skyscraper back from the moon (a usual topic of discussion that usually ends in the conclusion that it's doing alright up there anyway and the cows probably like it). Things were almost normal - if it weren't for the February cold, they'd have been out under the Tree in the sun. Phineas and Isabella were nattering on, but Ferb could tell that there was tension behind it all - they were both trying to keep the façade up a little bit, Isabella trying not to let slip the questions she was dying to ask, Phineas the confessions he was dying to give. It was kind of sad. Ferb knew as much as he wanted to just smash their heads together, that was not really a solution likely to yield a positive result, so he shifted the subject onto the day's plans. Phineas immediately pricked up and made some noises about a long essay that had to be done by Monday, while Isabella made similar white lie-ish sounds about having to help her mother at the restaurant this afternoon. When Phineas stood up to clear away the plates, Isabella pulled Ferb closer.

"My house, 2:30," she hissed. Ferb gave her an are-you-serious look. "Yes I'm serious!" she hissed again, glancing into the kitchen as Phineas clattered plates into the dishwasher. "Do you want to help or not?"

Fine, I'll be there, he nodded. Just don't expect me to be much help.

Hi everyone! Sorry for the long delay on this chapter: Been very busy in real life, but thought I should get back into it with, you know, the whole "There's going to be a Phineas and Ferb film now" and all.

Fabberabbe: Chapterwise, probably around 10- 12. I've broken Saturday into two parts already, and Valentine's day itself deserves a multiple chapter treatment, especially if I'm going to put in a few cliffhangers for you all!

defiant00: Thanks so much! I'm glad you think that this is so believable - sorry for the long wait, but now I'm back into the writing swing we should all get our cathartic final confrontation...

Galaxina-the-Seedrian: Thanks for reading it! Watching them dance around each other is painful, but so fun to write, so knowing that you're enjoying it as much as I am is great.