I do not own Phineas and Ferb.

Siblings: Jenny and Django

Django's Not-So-Legal Masterpiece

Standing in the doorframe of her brother's room, Jenny Brown was torn between what she wanted to do and what she knew she should do. Django was currently out, leaving his room completely free for snooping. But Jenny was very firm on her morals and very rarely strayed from them.

Sneaking into his room and rifling through his stuff without permission definitely was not acceptable.

But she needed to do this. Her brother had been acting odd lately, and no matter how times she pressed he continued to dismiss her concerns. So if she was going to figure out what was going on, she was going to have to take what she called the 'Candace Tactic'. She was going to have to be sneaky, devious and in full bust mode.

Taking a breath, Jenny slipped into the room. Much like her own, it reflected her brother's personality. The walls were pure white, allowing Django to paint or draw on them whenever he was struck with inspiration. On his computer desk was a drawing tablet and stacks of sketch books buried his laptop. Art books covered his bookshelf and there was a massive wardrobe that stored not clothes, but hundreds of top-of-the-range art supplies.

"Guess I'll start in the closet," she said to herself, moving over to the wooden door. She rifled through the clothes hanging on the metal rod and then bent down to sift through the items stashed in boxes on the floor. At the back of the closet she noticed a garbage bag shoved in the very corner. Curious, she tugged it out and opened it. Inside were half a dozen shirts and shorts, each item of clothing stained with bright colours of paint. "Okay…weird."

She put the bag back where she found it and stood up. She shut the closet door and went over to the bed. She peered underneath, but there was nothing. She lifted up the mattress and frowned when she found a folder. She removed it and took a look inside. There were about five clipped articles, each detailing information about the graffiti artist that had struck the town of Danville. There were coloured pictures of the art that the graffitist had done.

Running a hand through her long brown locks. "Don't jump to conclusions, Jenny," she muttered, sticking the folder back in its hiding place. She set the mattress back done and went over to the wardrobe. She opened the doors and inspected the art supplies. She could see three packs of new markers, paints and pencil crayons.

Her brother did not just leave new art supplies untouched. The second he got them he tore right into them. So Jenny didn't think she was being irrational when she found this suspicious. "I knew something was up," she muttered. She closed the doors and stood in the middle of the room, thinking hard.

The bag of clothes in the closet was suspicious because her brother usually didn't care if he got paint on his clothes. He certainly wouldn't pack them up to be thrown out. The clippings were not as suspicious, as her brother tended to keep articles about artists he admired. But they still caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Hey! What are you doing in my room?"

The twenty-first century hippie whirled around to see her eleven-year-old brother standing in the doorway, glaring at her with his hands on his hips. Jenny held out her hands in a pacifying manner. "I just wanted to see if you're okay."

Django huffed in frustration. "Of course I'm okay," he said. "You've only asked me that a million times. When will you quit?"

"When I'm sure you're telling the truth," replied Jenny. "You've had those bags under your eyes for the past two weeks. I haven't seen you paint or draw anything in the same amount of time."

"I've been sketching," said Django in slight irritation.

"You hardly ever restrain yourself to just sketching," pointed out Jenny.

"Why are you making a big deal out of nothing?" he asked in exasperation. "Go to a protest or something."

"I don't have any protests lined up this week," said Jenny calmly.

"Will you please leave? I've got stuff that I want to do."

Sighing, Jenny nodded. "Fine. But I will find out what you're up to."

"I'm not up to anything!"

Jenny left, and before Django closed the door she did not miss the protective, possessive way he clutched at his backpack strap.

Three nights later, Jenny was getting a glass of water at one in the morning when she heard footsteps coming from the second floor. They were not heavy, so it wasn't her father moving about. They were light, almost stealthy. Sensing an opportunity, Jenny shut off the tap and crouched behind the kitchen island, the glass resting beside her foot. Peeking around the marble structure, she watched as her brother moved for the front door, dressed in a dark blue hoodie and brown shorts. His backpack hung over his shoulders and a sketchbook was clutched in his hand.

Jenny watched him leave with a slight frown. Okay…maybe it's a bit more serious than I first thought.

Standing up, she put the glass on the counter and hurried for the front door. She shrugged on her yellow jacket and hurried outside in bare feet. She could see her brother making his way down the street, his hood now pulled over his face.

"Suspicious," she mused, following after him.

Django left the suburbs in which they lived and went right into town. He ducked down an alleyway and Jenny stood next to the wall, peeking down the dark depths. Her brother set his backpack on the ground and studied a page in his sketchbook. After a while he set it down and dug through his bag. He removed two spray cans and aimed them at the wall.

Jenny's eyes widened in realization. Of course.

Her brother was a talented artist, no one could deny it. He took pride in exploring all different art forms, and apparently he was practicing his graffiti skills. The fact that it was illegal didn't stop him, much like how Jenny refused to let threats from police officers stop her from staking her place in her protests. If she had to tie herself to a tree to prove her point, then she would do so.

Stealing into the alley, she crept behind her brother and set a hand on his shoulder. Shrieking, Django jumped and whirled around. "J?"

"D, what are you doing?"

"Did you follow me here?" he asked indigently.

Jenny shook her head. "Of course I did. I saw you sneaking out. I couldn't just leave it."

Django turned to stare at his work. The jolt had thankfully not messed up his art too much. "You almost ruined this."

"So you're the graffiti artist that's plagued this town." Jenny crossed his arms. "You know this is illegal, right?"

"That depends on who you talk to." Django lifted up the blue paint spray and slowly filled in the words he had made with his black spray paint.

"If you get caught, you're going to get arrested."

He rolled his eyes. "Like you've never gotten in trouble for your life work."

I suppose this is the problem of being a modern hippie with a free-spirited artist as a brother, she thought wearily. She was a very passive person who had never raised her voice in her life. She certainly wasn't going to shout at her brother for what he was doing, not when she had gotten arrested less than a month ago for freeing dogs that were being abused at the local pet shop that was part of a corporate chain.

"Then I guess I'm just going to stay here until you finish."

Django paused, peering at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"You won't tell Dad?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay." He smiled. "Thanks."

Jenny leaned against the grimy wall opposite the one her brother was spray painting. "Can I ask a few questions?"

"Sure."

"Those clothes in your closet. You're throwing them away because the spray paint won't come out, right?"

"You did snoop! I knew it." Django shot his sister a disappointed look. "Rude."

"I was concerned. So?"

"Yeah, I was afraid someone would realize that it wasn't regular paint stains. I haven't gotten around to getting rid of them yet."

"Why are you keeping news clippings that could incriminate you if you get busted?"

"I want to remember my legacy," defended Django.

Jenny laughed. "You're only eleven. You have the rest of your life to build a legacy. People are going to forget about this in a week."

"Well, I wanted to give it a shot, anyway. Some of the greatest artists out there are street artists."

Django soon finished his work. He stepped back to inspect the bright letters he had crafted. Jenny could not help but nod in approval. "Far out."

"Thanks." Beaming, Django packed up his stuff. "Come on, let's-"

"Who's down there?"

The two whirled around, catching sight of a police officer striding in their direction, his flashlight sweeping back and forth. Panicked, Django shoved his sister towards the end of the alley. They broke into a run and scrambled over the wall. They didn't make it over in time and the flashlight illuminated their backs and the fresh graffiti.

"Hey! Stop!"

"Run!" wailed Django.

They took off down the street, distinctly hearing the pounding footsteps of the cop chasing after them. "What do we do?" panted Django.

"Just follow me."

The two siblings went through alleys, darted down dark streets and when they reached the suburbs they started climbing over fences and walls. They cut through backyards and, though they had lost the cop a while back, they didn't stop running.

When they reached their own backyard Django fumbled with his house key and unlocked the sliding glass door. They filed into the green room (which was Jenny's personal, in-home greenhouse) and ducked through another door into the back hall.

"Well," Django wheezed, "that went better than expected."

"Let's not do that again." Jenny wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Are your feet okay?" he asked in concern.

Jenny wiggled her bare feet. They were scratched and covered in dirt, but nothing serious. "Sure. I've gone way longer with no shoes. I like how the Earth feels beneath my feet. I feel connected to it."

Django grinned. "I'm so glad you're as weird as I am."

"We're not weird. We're just not afraid to show free expression." She put her arm around his shoulders. "Those are the words you felt the need to paint on that wall."

"Don't worry, my street artist stint is over," promised Django. "I never intended for it to last long. But I'm surprised you picked up on the little things. Dad didn't have a clue."

"Well, I'm your sister. And I suppose, no matter how easy-going and trusting I might be, a sister always holds some suspicion over what their younger sibling might be doing."

Django hugged her. "Thanks for being super cool."

"No problem." Jenny ruffled his shaggy brown hair. "Go get cleaned up. I think we both deserve a late-night snack."

"Brownie sundaes?" asked Django hopefully.

"Why not?"

He stepped back with a wide grin. He headed for the stairs, but before he started the climb he glanced over his shoulder. "None of your vegan tricks," he warned, pointing at her.

Jenny smiled. "Alright, no vegan tricks."

Django nodded in satisfaction and jogged up the stairs as silently as he could. Jenny left for the kitchen, trying not to leave dirt footprints on the tiled floor from her soiled feet.

While she didn't entirely agree with what her brother had done, she also wasn't disappointed in him for it. The words he had painted on the wall rang true for the both of them. It was why they were so close, able to understand each other like few people could.

After all, very few could relate to each other as well as a pair of hippie-artist siblings.