Fifteen: Insecurity

Authors Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait. If it helps this is the longest chapter we've had of this story! Also, I wanted to let you guys know that there is an end in sight for this series. I've decided that chapter 15 will be the last chapter. That being said if there's any chapter idea you for sure want to see before we reach the end, let me know! Also, thank you guys so much for over 200 reviews! They mean the world to me!

I was never a very hateful person until I turned fifteen. It wasn't really until then that my life started throwing me enough lemons to make me upset. Before I turned fifteen I was pretty much a hate free person.

Except when it came to clothes shopping.

Sure, when I was little it was easy. Go in, pick out the same thing I always did, and I was done. Voila!

But eventually I reached the age where that wasn't an option anymore. Weirdly they don't market the same clothes to, say, thirteen year olds as they do ten year olds. Go figure.

And of course, over this last year I've grown. I've gotten a little taller and more awkward looking, so now my clothes aren't fitting very well. And my mom just couldn't have that.

So that's why this morning was spent with me complaining to mom and being in a terrible mood. But that ended up being temporary since not too long into mom's headache Ferb stepped in and offered to take me. And given the headache she was getting, mom agreed pretty quickly.

And normally I'd be more than happy to spend the day with Ferb, but this is just not working out.

You see, I didn't really give my body much thought until I turned fifteen. It was just my body. Just the thing that held my tools and drew my blueprints. But now it's more than that.

It's one of the things that attracts other people to me. Or at least it's supposed to. I don't know if it is.

Much like I don't know if how I'm dressing is attracting anyone.

Am I stylish? Do I look presentable? I have literally no idea.

Are my pants hitting my hips in the right place? Is this shirt too tight? Do these things even go together?

Once again, I have no idea.

And the thing is I know Ferb knows. Ferb is a snazzy dresser. Or at least that's what girls say. I actually don't know because I think Ferb would look good in anything. Or nothing. Oh, God, nothing…

But now is not the time for those kinds of thoughts!

Because you see, I am currently in a dressing room with some clothes I picked up at random, with Ferb waiting outside the door for me. I've never known anxiety quite like this.

I know he's waiting for me to either come out with the clothes I'm going to purchase (well, technically mom will purchase. She did give me money) or come out in some clothes to ask his opinion.

Both options sound awful.

I don't want to buy something that looks bad and then have Ferb see me walking around in it. Really, I guess I don't want anyone to see me in bad clothes, but mostly I'm thinking of Ferb.

And then of course I don't want to ask his opinion on anything. I mean, his eyes on me, looking me over…

But not for good reasons! Just to see if I look bad. And I really don't want him to tell me I look bad.

I swear I was never this self-conscious until I was fifteen!

But the fact remains that I need to make a decision soon. If I wait too long I'll lose my second option, which although I'm avoiding, I know is the better choice.

Better for Ferb to think I look bad in something once than to think it every time I wear it.

So I have no choice but to hide my insecurity and face my brother. My very hot brother.

"Does this look okay?" I ask as I walk out of the fitting room to face Ferb.

My brother gives me a quick once over before walking away from the line of fitting rooms and back out into the store.

I've got to admit I didn't think I'd look so bad that he'd leave me. But of course Ferb is only gone a few minutes before he comes back with an arm full of clothing.

"Those don't fit you." Ferb explains before he hands me the new clothes and motions me back inside the fitting room.

Once I'm back inside I look at myself in the mirror. I didn't think I was that far off from my size. I guess my parts are a little baggy.

So I take off the t-shirt and pants I've been trying on and grab the clothes Ferb handed me. The first t-shirt is nothing special. Just a basic orange shirt that Ferb probably knew I would like. The jeans, however, are skinny.

I've never worn a pair of skinny jeans in my life.

I know they're in style and everything, but I've never tried them before. Ferb looks good in them though. But then Ferb looks good in everything. I, on the other hand, do not look like some kind of sex god, so I am not sure if skinny jeans are for me.

I look past the skinny jeans and see that the other pants Ferb has selected aren't skinny. Just your normal run of the mill jeans. I'd say maybe Ferb grabbed these by mistake, but even in a hurry Ferb is precise. More than likely Ferb has decided to pull me out of my comfort zone.

Great.

I'm considering saving these for last when I hear Ferb's voice through the door.

"Trust me, Phin." Ferb says, sounding amused.

It's amazing how he always knows exactly what I'm thinking. It's one of the things that makes me insanely attracted to him.

"I always do." I call back before I pull on the orange shirt.

It feels a little tighter than what I would normally wear, but not tremendously so. I'm just not really used to the fabric clinging to my body.

Then I take the skinny jeans and pull them on. Upon zipping them I find that they aren't exactly comfortable. They aren't unbearable, but I feel a little squished.

I look in the mirror, but I honestly don't know if they fit or not. They're the right length, and the fit in the legs isn't too bad, just a little clingy. But my butt and, er, package look like they're straining against the denim.

Once again I prove that I don't know how to access clothing. And once again I must rely on the hottest man on earth to help me.

I walk out of the fitting room a little nervously and then wait for Ferb's assessment.

Maybe nothing will fit me to Ferb's liking. Maybe I should have just let mom take me.

Ferb is scanning my body with his eyes, and I wonder if the extra time he's taking is a sign that these clothes fit me better than the last ones.

"Well?" I ask as Ferb continues to look.

"Turn." Ferb demands.

I do as I'm told and turn until my butt is facing him. And of course this is when the real anxiety starts, because he is looking at my ass.

Is it nice? Does the tightness of these jeans make it look firm, or make it look ridiculously big? Does Ferb even care?

Why is he taking so long? He's been looking at my backside longer than he did my front.

Now I'm starting to blush, great. That is exactly what I need right now. To blush because my extremely hot stepbrother is looking at my butt. But why is he taking so long? Does he like what he sees? Should I tell him to take a picture? Heck, maybe take twenty. What do I care? It's his for the taking.

If he wanted to right now he could stroll on over and cop a feel. Heck, I'd be cool with full on groping. And if he wanted to rub against it a little—

Dear God! That is not why he's looking!

"Are you ever going to tell me how I look?" I ask, willing my blush to go down, as I look over my shoulder at Ferb.

Ferb is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and a light smile on his face. Although, I think the smile could almost be considered a smirk. Like he knows how uncomfortable he's making me, and he really enjoys it.

"You're a bit of a dish." Ferb tells me.

I blush again. It's something I've heard dad say about mom before, and it's more or less is just a British way of saying someone looks hot. I can hardly believe Ferb would say it about me.

"I— So they fit? Not too tight?" I manage to ask, still facing away from him. My face is on fire.

"Perfect fit." Ferb says, and his voice sounds a hair lower than usual.

"Right," I say as I manage to turn toward him. "I guess I've just never worn stuff like this before." I explain as I run a hand through my hair, causing my shirt to ride up. Ferb's eyes seem to dart to the exposed skin for a moment.

"Change can be a good thing, as long as it's not too much," Ferb says as he closes the distance between us to pull down on my shirt. "Maybe a size up in this shirt would be better."

I feel like my brain isn't working as he says it. I can barely even register what he said. He's so close. I can feel the heat coming off of his body, hear the sound of his breathing. But mostly I feel his fingers against the bare skin of sides, where he hasn't let go of the bottom of my shirt.

I want to move closer. I want his hands on my skin because just his fingers aren't enough. I want everything I can get from him, and then probably more still. I don't think anything could ever feel like enough.

Still I manage to force out a reply to him, "Whatever you think is best."

Ferb smiles at me, and I think this will be the moment that I actually throw myself at him. The moment where I'm not thinking enough to hold myself back.

But then a little kid runs into the hall of fitting rooms, his dad behind him, and Ferb lets go of me and takes a step back.

I almost groan in disappointment.

"You should try on the rest," Ferb says before he looks at his watch. "We're going to be late for dinner."

I nod, not bothering to look toward the father and son duo going into a fitting room. No matter how upset I am I can't glare at a little kid.

I quickly go back into my fitting room to try on the rest of my clothes. I can't help but think that what just happened will only make me more self-conscious about how I look. Or at the very least I'll think about it more.

Just one of the joys of being an insecure fifteen year old boy in love with his stepbrother.