Hoo, hoo! Go, Phineas, go! Go, Phineas! X3

Chapter 10

The next morning, Ferb awoke with Perry under his arm. Ferb hugged the platypus, and looked at the empty inflatable raft that was Phineas' bed. It wouldn't be empty tomorrow, though.

Ferb got dressed and carried Perry downstairs. He ate a bowl of cereal, then went to the same spot on the couch that he had been defaulting to these past two days. A huge pile of read books sat on the coffee table. Ferb went to the bookshelf and pulled out the Flynn-Fletchers' copy of Useless Shoelace Facts: Volume Eight. They had purchased one shortly after the whole day of aglet awareness. It made sense at the time to only get number eight… Ferb sat back down on the couch and opened up to the first page. He could hardly wait for Phineas' return.

~meanwhile at Wilson's house~

After a lovely breakfast of pancakes (made by the toaster), Phineas went back to the guest room and got up on the bed. He closed his eyes. He still felt awful, even after a whole night of sleep. He knew there was a good reason for Mom to not be with Wilson. All along, he knew.

"Hey, Sport!" Wilson burst in with a huge grin on his face. He was such a good liar.

"Hey, Wilson," Phineas mumbled.

"Want to go play some catch out back?" Wilson said, wrapping an arm around Phineas.

"Sure," Phineas said, trying to swallow despite how tight his throat felt.

Wilson led Phineas into the back yard. A wide yard full of thick, green grass sat, surrounded with a very handsome wooden fence. A lot like the one back in Phineas' own backyard. He felt more homesick then he had the first day. He wanted so much to go home to parents who actually loved him.

Wilson handed Phineas a small, leather baseball glove. He slipped a larger version of the same thing onto his own hand.

"Ready, there Sport?" Wilson called to Phineas, who was now standing on the other side of the yard.

"Yeah," Phineas called. His voice squeaked a little. He was trying so hard not to cry.

Wilson tossed Phineas the ball.

Phineas caught it with ease and threw it back.

"It's a little cliché to be playing catch with a baseball for some bonding time, huh?" Wilson threw the ball back to Phineas.

Yeah. It would also be cliché if I got a black eye. And you wouldn't even care if I did or not, would you? Phineas threw the ball again.

"Who did your Mom end up marrying, anyway?" Wilson tossed the ball.

"My Dad," Phineas said, tossing the ball back.

"Your stepdad. What's his name?" The ball was sent back to Phineas.

"Lawrence," Phineas returned the ball to Wilson.

"Ah. Does ol' Larry ever play ball with you, Sport?" Wilson threw the ball again.

"Well, no." Phineas threw it back.

"Does he take you fishing?" Wilson performed a perfect pitch, like a professional baseball player does.

Phineas jumped to catch the ball. "Not recently." He didn't really like where this conversation was going.

"Does he do anything with you?" Wilson caught the ball that Phineas had pitched back, and tossed it underhand once again.

Phineas caught the ball and stood with it in his mit. "Yes, he does. Earlier this summer, he helped Ferb and I make a giant monster truck rally in the back yard!"

Wilson shrugged and called "Yeah, sorry. I have a hard time believing that. Now toss it back!"

Phineas dropped the ball. "Dad does lots of stuff with me! He's just been busy lately, I guess."

"Busy selling old junk at the antique store?"

If Wilson was trying to joke about it, it wasn't funny at all. "He doesn't sell junk, Wilson!"

Wilson walked over and picked up the baseball, which Phineas had almost forgotten about entirely. He looked down at Phineas. "Why can't you just call me 'dad'?"

Phineas blinked back the tears that were fighting hard to escape. "Why can't you just call me 'Phineas'?" He said so loudly that it was almost a shout.

Wilson took a step back.

Both looked at each other for a few seconds, but it felt like hours.

Phineas took the baseball glove off and handed it to Wilson just before running into the house. He jumped up onto the bed, not even bothering to close the bedroom door behind him. Finally, he let himself cry. He missed Ferb, he missed Candace, and he missed his loving parents. Wilson really wasn't his dad. Phineas might have been born to him, but Wilson was no father of his.

A real dad loved his son. Lawrence really was his real dad, because he loved Phineas. With a wonderful honest-to-goodness fatherly love. And Ferb was his brother. Phineas and Ferb loved each other with no end. They were real brothers.

Wilson stepped in the back door. He assumed Phineas had gone back to his bed, but even if he went in to talk, he wouldn't get anything out of him.

He kept thinking about what Phineas had said. Why can't you just call me 'Phineas'? First of all, Wilson didn't want to have to swallow his pride to start calling him "Phineas" after he had gotten used to calling him "Sport". Didn't all great dads call their sons "Sport"? Second, that boy wasn't Phineas. Phineas was a little baby; wrapped in the unoccupied arm of a five-year-old sister (the occupied one had that silly little bear, Mr. Miggins). Both children were sitting on the floor, crying. Phineas was that little tyke crying on the floor. Phineas was that tiny kid that Wilson would never have to see or remember again. That was the night that he left, about ten years ago.

Wilson hadn't really regretted leaving when he did. To be honest, he still didn't really regret it. He never really wanted kids. Marion wanted kids, though. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to bring Phineas back into his life. Maybe it would have been better to leave him forgotten.

Either way, Wilson wanted to have a wife around, and Marion seemed to fit the bill. Partial custody, Wilson repeated over and over in his head. Partial custody.

Phineas came out of the guest room, wiping the tears from his red cheeks.

"Hey, Sport."

Phineas looked at Wilson. He looked away and wiped his eyes again. "Hey, Wilson."

"Look, Sport… I hope you can think of me as your dad."

Phineas knew what he wanted to say ("No! You can't even think of me as your son!"), but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"I was planning on asking your mom if I could have you over every weekend. Is that okay?"

Every weekend? "I couldn't be away from Ferb that much."

"Who's Ferb?"

"My brother!"

"Stepbrother, you mean? Please tell me that you don't think I meant what I said outside."

"I don't think you did. I know you did."

"What?"

Phineas folded his arms over his stomach, which was hurting intensely now. "I heard what you said last night."

Wilson remained sitting on the couch and stared wide-eyed at Phineas.

"You don't have to explain anything. I get it now," Phineas said, turning to head back into the room.

Wilson called after him. "Are you getting your stuff together, Sp-" he stopped himself from finishing.

After a short pause, Phineas called back, "If you're taking me home, then yes. If you're not, I'm just lying on the bed waiting until it's time."

Wilson was ready to take Phineas home. "Gather our stuff up, then. I'll be in the car."

Phineas gathered his things and stepped outside. Wilson's cherry-red car sat idling in the driveway. Phineas walked down the flower-lined pathway and got into the back seat. He was finally going home.

Home again, home again, jiggidy-jig. :)