Heaven
Title: The First Day
Fandom: Phineas and Ferb
Characters/Pairing: Ferb, Candace, Phineas, Isabella, Bufford, Baljeet. Slight onesided I/P
Prompt: #11 - Heaven (Table One)
Rating: G
Notes: There's not really much to it, but it's simple and sweet.
Summary: The first day of summer was always the best for Phineas Flynn.
The first day of summer was always the best for Phineas Flynn. Waking up in the morning, fully rested for the first time in a while, to see the sun pouring in through the window and hear the birds sing melodies that they had been composing all year long. Lying in bed for another hour, trying to wrapping his mind around the thought of freedom. Then comes the realization; one hundred and four. One hundred and four days with no chains, no limits, and no worries. One hundred and four days to fill, and thousands of activities to fill them with. Those three blessed numbers: 1-0-4. Better get out of bed now, or they’ll be gone in a flash.
He runs down to the kitchen, which is filled with the aroma of bacon and eggs and toast and other great brunch foods. Mom doesn’t usually go out of her way like this, but it was a special day, after all. She figured they disserved a treat. Ferb is already down. He helps mom to set the table and sometimes she even lets him make his own recipe for a quiche, which he usually reserved for birthdays. Ferb loves to cook, though it isn’t something he does very often. When he can, though, he does it right. Like, “French five star restaurant” right. He knows how much his younger brother loves summer, so he always does something special. This year he puts in chocolate chips and celery, two of Phineas’s favorite snacks. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. No matter what he put it, it was amazing, somehow.
“Maybe we can make you a restaurant.” He remembers suggesting a five or six years ago now . “Something weird but cool, where you can throw in whatever you want and everyone will be amazed. Maybe it could even have a theme! “Phineas and Ferb’s Backyard Tree House Style Restaurant! How does that sound?” He was only six at the time, so he lacked the ability to make the huge feat that they could now, but his imagination was just as wild. Most of the time back then he would think of something small they could build, like a doll house for Candace or a fancy dog house for the neighbor’s terrier puppies, and then Ferb would work on it by himself with Phineas watching.
Candace would come down a few minutes later, still in her pajamas and bed head, with her cell phone in hand laughing at whatever message Stacy or Jenny or Jeremy had sent her. Soon, she wouldn’t dare take her eyes of them for fear she would miss some incriminating evidence. Not yet, however. She was just as happy as the boys to be away from the peer pressure and stress of the high school life. The past nine months they had been nothing but normal little boys. She would excuse them for a few days.
Then Ferb would finish eating and stand up to clear the table while waiting for the rest of the family to be done as well.
“Where’s the book?” The red head would ask every year, referring to what they called “the yellow apple book.” For the last six years it had been their bible. Their encyclopedia of all things blue print, impossible, and interesting. Ferb runs up to get it from the padlocked box under his bed where he kept all his most important treasures. When he returns downstairs Phineas is already outside, trying to find the comfortable patch of dirt that had been his thrown last year. Ferb would sit down on a random spot, and Phineas would shrug his shoulder and sit next to him.
“Whatcha’ doin’?” right on time, every year. Isabella would wander through the gate in the fence encircling their yard. She held her hands behind her back, and awaited the answer that she knew was coming.
“We don’t know yet.” Phineas would tell her. “Why don’t you help us decide?”
On this inside she was swooning, love struck that he would value her opinion. On the outside her mouth replies “Sure!” on autopilot. She doesn’t know what she’s saying or doing anymore, but she goes and sits as close to Phineas as she can. He never notices. One of these days he probably will, but right now his hormones are still lying quiet, not yet ready to reveal themselves. She thinks Ferb knows, but he never does anything.
“How’s this one sound?” Phineas asks, pointing to a picture of a typewriter. Isabella looks at his strange, from dizzying love, confusion, or both. She questions his choice, but he laughs. “Not a typewriter exactly. Why don’t we write our own books?” He’ll recommend. Of course, it’s a great idea. His always are.
They’ll meet up with Buford and Baljeet at some point in the day. Maybe at the park, maybe the mall. The two aren’t high on writing themselves, but Bajeet agrees to be the editor while Buford works on printing them.
“Mine’s going to be about a completely different world.” Phineas tells his group. “Where everything is going wrong until someone steps up and does something about it.”
“Mine’s a romance.” Isabella says in a sing-song voice. “About a girl in love and a boy who’s clueless.”
Ferb continues to write.
Before two o’clock the book are published and being distributed.
By three they’re on all the top best seller lists across the world.
At four they go home to have a light snack. Perry’s gone missing by now, but no one is surprised by this.
Five to six o’clock they’re at a book signing. Thousands of people show up, crying their names and praising their works. You changed my life, they’ll claim. I fell in love with your character. I wish I could write that well, they’ll say.
Then at seven a new author with a new book that everyone is talking about will appear. They’ll be wiped all the way off the best seller lists and into the kitchen once again for diner. Sometimes Isabella joins them. This year she doesn’t. Ferb helps cook again. The dish is Mexican, but he can’t remember what it’s called. It tastes good though.
Finally, at eight the family with gather in the living room and all squeeze onto the couch or sit on the floor infront of it. They put in a movie they’ve watched a dozen times, and six and enjoy each other’s company. Phineas, worn out by all the fans, will put his head in his brother’s lap.
“I think,” He’ll say. “This must be what heaven is like.”
Fandom: Phineas and Ferb
Characters/Pairing: Ferb, Candace, Phineas, Isabella, Bufford, Baljeet. Slight onesided I/P
Prompt: #11 - Heaven (Table One)
Rating: G
Notes: There's not really much to it, but it's simple and sweet.
Summary: The first day of summer was always the best for Phineas Flynn.
The first day of summer was always the best for Phineas Flynn. Waking up in the morning, fully rested for the first time in a while, to see the sun pouring in through the window and hear the birds sing melodies that they had been composing all year long. Lying in bed for another hour, trying to wrapping his mind around the thought of freedom. Then comes the realization; one hundred and four. One hundred and four days with no chains, no limits, and no worries. One hundred and four days to fill, and thousands of activities to fill them with. Those three blessed numbers: 1-0-4. Better get out of bed now, or they’ll be gone in a flash.
He runs down to the kitchen, which is filled with the aroma of bacon and eggs and toast and other great brunch foods. Mom doesn’t usually go out of her way like this, but it was a special day, after all. She figured they disserved a treat. Ferb is already down. He helps mom to set the table and sometimes she even lets him make his own recipe for a quiche, which he usually reserved for birthdays. Ferb loves to cook, though it isn’t something he does very often. When he can, though, he does it right. Like, “French five star restaurant” right. He knows how much his younger brother loves summer, so he always does something special. This year he puts in chocolate chips and celery, two of Phineas’s favorite snacks. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. No matter what he put it, it was amazing, somehow.
“Maybe we can make you a restaurant.” He remembers suggesting a five or six years ago now . “Something weird but cool, where you can throw in whatever you want and everyone will be amazed. Maybe it could even have a theme! “Phineas and Ferb’s Backyard Tree House Style Restaurant! How does that sound?” He was only six at the time, so he lacked the ability to make the huge feat that they could now, but his imagination was just as wild. Most of the time back then he would think of something small they could build, like a doll house for Candace or a fancy dog house for the neighbor’s terrier puppies, and then Ferb would work on it by himself with Phineas watching.
Candace would come down a few minutes later, still in her pajamas and bed head, with her cell phone in hand laughing at whatever message Stacy or Jenny or Jeremy had sent her. Soon, she wouldn’t dare take her eyes of them for fear she would miss some incriminating evidence. Not yet, however. She was just as happy as the boys to be away from the peer pressure and stress of the high school life. The past nine months they had been nothing but normal little boys. She would excuse them for a few days.
Then Ferb would finish eating and stand up to clear the table while waiting for the rest of the family to be done as well.
“Where’s the book?” The red head would ask every year, referring to what they called “the yellow apple book.” For the last six years it had been their bible. Their encyclopedia of all things blue print, impossible, and interesting. Ferb runs up to get it from the padlocked box under his bed where he kept all his most important treasures. When he returns downstairs Phineas is already outside, trying to find the comfortable patch of dirt that had been his thrown last year. Ferb would sit down on a random spot, and Phineas would shrug his shoulder and sit next to him.
“Whatcha’ doin’?” right on time, every year. Isabella would wander through the gate in the fence encircling their yard. She held her hands behind her back, and awaited the answer that she knew was coming.
“We don’t know yet.” Phineas would tell her. “Why don’t you help us decide?”
On this inside she was swooning, love struck that he would value her opinion. On the outside her mouth replies “Sure!” on autopilot. She doesn’t know what she’s saying or doing anymore, but she goes and sits as close to Phineas as she can. He never notices. One of these days he probably will, but right now his hormones are still lying quiet, not yet ready to reveal themselves. She thinks Ferb knows, but he never does anything.
“How’s this one sound?” Phineas asks, pointing to a picture of a typewriter. Isabella looks at his strange, from dizzying love, confusion, or both. She questions his choice, but he laughs. “Not a typewriter exactly. Why don’t we write our own books?” He’ll recommend. Of course, it’s a great idea. His always are.
They’ll meet up with Buford and Baljeet at some point in the day. Maybe at the park, maybe the mall. The two aren’t high on writing themselves, but Bajeet agrees to be the editor while Buford works on printing them.
“Mine’s going to be about a completely different world.” Phineas tells his group. “Where everything is going wrong until someone steps up and does something about it.”
“Mine’s a romance.” Isabella says in a sing-song voice. “About a girl in love and a boy who’s clueless.”
Ferb continues to write.
Before two o’clock the book are published and being distributed.
By three they’re on all the top best seller lists across the world.
At four they go home to have a light snack. Perry’s gone missing by now, but no one is surprised by this.
Five to six o’clock they’re at a book signing. Thousands of people show up, crying their names and praising their works. You changed my life, they’ll claim. I fell in love with your character. I wish I could write that well, they’ll say.
Then at seven a new author with a new book that everyone is talking about will appear. They’ll be wiped all the way off the best seller lists and into the kitchen once again for diner. Sometimes Isabella joins them. This year she doesn’t. Ferb helps cook again. The dish is Mexican, but he can’t remember what it’s called. It tastes good though.
Finally, at eight the family with gather in the living room and all squeeze onto the couch or sit on the floor infront of it. They put in a movie they’ve watched a dozen times, and six and enjoy each other’s company. Phineas, worn out by all the fans, will put his head in his brother’s lap.
“I think,” He’ll say. “This must be what heaven is like.”