The Scenic Route

The pumpkin spice latte is warm in her hands. Warm against the cold rain beating down outside, the rain she just trudged through without an umbrella.

Textbooks are piled up all around her – her laptop is nestled between them, balancing on the miniscule strip of table not taken up by books and notes. Her fingers navigate the computer's keyboard, clattering like the rain against the windows.

She's dressed in black, she's got hair darker than the coffee clutched between her frozen fingers, she's wearing an annoyed look - the girl's no angel. But, nevertheless, there's a boy staring at her, another student swamped in books and homework. He looks young, but if you took a look at the titles of the textbooks piled on his table, you'd probably bump up your estimation of his age a few years. They're college level, in-depth studies of subjects normal people struggle to understand. And he's breezing through them, taking notes and stealing glances at the girl without missing a beat.

He knows her name's Vanessa, Vanessa Doofenshmirtz. It's an unfortunate surname, to be sure - it should be changed - Fletcher would be a good match.

The boy runs his hands over his cheeks, trying to hide the dull flush tinting them at the thought, and re-focuses on his work.

The clock on the wall shows time slipping by, until the wet darkness outside is ousted by true evening gloom.

The girl gets up, slips on a jacket and begins to gather her books and computer.

The action is not lost on the boy, who hesitates. Why won't his legs move? What part of his brain is sabotaging his plan? Why the nervousness?

He gets up, sweeps his books into a bag, and approaches her.

"Ferb!" she exclaims, and he nods in greeting.

"Can I offer you a ride home?" he asks, his voice coloured by a British accent.

She sighs. Boys are always doing these sorts of chivalrous things for her - holding doors, carrying bags, etcetera - and she's tired of it. Why can't they just leave her alone? But, then again, she really could use the ride. The storm outside is lashing against the coffee shop's windows, and the walk to the bus stop would be an icy one.

"I guess," she says, and he smiles, and takes her books without another word.

Her first smile comes when she sees his car. If you can call it a car. It's low and sleek, shining in the rain - a little too aerodynamic to be normal. "You did something to this, didn't you?" she asks.

He shrugs - "Just enough," he says - and holds open the door for her. Another gentlemanly action. It should be annoying her, but it seems to come so naturally to the young man that it doesn't.

He slides into the driver's seat - it's on the wrong side. Another sign of his British upbringing. And there's no steering wheel.

Vanessa is confused. "How does this thing work?" she says.

Ferb presses a button on the dashboard, and the engine starts with a low, gentle sound. "It's magic," he says, his voice matching the soft purr of the car, and leans over to type a number combination near the place a gearshift would be in an ordinary vehicle. A tuft of his green hair brushes her shoulder, and she shivers without meaning to.

He doesn't need to talk, his eyes clearly say, "You ready?" as he glances at her.

She tries the trick - without speaking or smiling, she gives the affirmative.

He laughs at her, quietly.

Oh, gosh, Vanessa thinks as the car glides out of its parking space, Ferb controlling it via a mousepad on the dashboard. "It's magic?" That look - is he flirting with me?

She should be used to it by now - after all, boys have been smiling at her ever since kindergarten, - but everything seems so new when the British kid does it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Ferb brushes the dashboard with the tip of a finger again. An upbeat song starts playing, rising from some invisible sound system, so it seems all around them. The volume is down.

Vanessa knows he's just waiting for her to say the word, but she can't resist.

"Turn it up!" she says. "I love this song!"

"Thought you might," he says, a note of triumph in that British voice, and the sound increases.

Her father's house is just ahead, and Ferb's heart is sinking, until she sighs and leans back dejectedly in her leather seat.

"What's wrong?" he asks, slowing the car to a crawl.

"Dad." Her voice is annoyed and depressed. "He's so - this ride will be the only fun thing all week. The only slightly normal thing."

"You thought it was fun?" he speaks with joy, not with the gloating drawl most boys would, and Vanessa smiles at him. He puts his hand on hers, and she starts, but after a moment, allows the contact.

"Would you like to take a detour?"

The words are so quiet, for a moment, Vanessa wonders if she imagined them.

"What?"

"Would you like to take a detour? The scenic route?"

"Uh -" Vanessa raises an eyebrow. "We're ten feet away from my dad's house."

"It's never too late to stop and take the longer way."

"Yeah, okay."

Ferb nods, and turns away from the towering purple building Vanessa's dad inhabits.

They cruise through the suburbs and out into the country. At first, Vanessa is insecure, worried about where he is taking her, but she shakes it off and remembers the time Ferb and his brother took her to Paris. He was so sweet to her on that trip. She can trust him.

She finds herself talking to him. "My dad's an evil scientist," she confesses, watching him grin. "At least, that's what he says he is. He tries to build evil inventions to take over the tri-state area -"

Ferb laughs.

"It's true!"

"You have an interesting family, Vanessa."

"I know. Sometimes I wish I just had a normal life."

Ferb was very quiet for a minute. The silence was completely usual for him, but his expression was hard, his eyes focused on infinity, as if he was considering something monumental.

"You know what," he said after a while. "I wish that, as well."

"What?"

"Well, my family is a bit odd. My sister's a touch psychotic. My pet is a rare egg-laying mammal from Australia. My brother is a genius."

"So are you! You're just as smart. And - what do you mean, you wish you were normal? You have an amazing family! My relatives are just nutjobs."

"My parents are divorced," he whispers.

"So are mine."

He takes her hand again, and gives it a gentle squeeze. "What I mean," he clarifies, "Is this: sometimes, I think, if I were a normal kid, my mom and dad wouldn't have have split up. Dad simply wanted to bring me up like an ordinary child, whereas mom wanted me to - well, I'm not quite sure what she wanted. To make use of my talents, send me to a private school where they could figure me out - I don't know. But they argued so much -" he stops, swallows, and then starts again. "And - I think my brother and I are driving our sister slowly 'round the bend."

Vanessa laughs. "Don't blame yourself. Just be happy for who you have."

"I will if you will," he says.

"Oh -" she frowns. "Okay."

Ferb takes a deep breath. "I've never talked so much in my life," he says. "Or ever before told anyone what I just told you. Please don't spread it around."

"I wouldn't!"

"Thank you."

They drive on, both pondering the conversation. The music plays, covering the silence, but a tinge of awkwardness hangs in the air between the boy and the girl. Vanessa speaks up first.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

Ferb shrugs. "I've no idea. I just like being with you."

Vanessa's face grows hot. "Ferb, seriously?"

"What? Just being honest." He shrugs, and she is struck again with the way everything he does is fresh, new, and innocent. As if he's never -

"Ferb," she says, "Have you -"

He steals a glance at her, but she has inexplicably lost her nerve, not brave enough to finish her sentience.

The uncomfortable moment is once again saved by the music - an upbeat, toe-tapping rhythm launches, and Vanessa, staring out the window, starts clicking her nails against the door in time to the song. To her surprise, Ferb, who, to the best of her knowledge, is normally quite shy and unresponsive to his environment, nods his head at the same tempo, a smile curling his mouth. His tufts of green hair bounce up and down.

"It's a dancing song," he says, voice soft.

Vanessa laughs - it's crazy. She just meant to be driven home from Starbucks - how did this happen? But as the car slows and stops, she gets out - mutual agreement hangs in the air. He takes her hand. It's an empty stretch of road deep in the country - the rain has stopped and the air is fresh, humming with nightlife and pulsing with music.

He takes her hand in a firm but gentle grasp, and somehow, she dances.

Normally self-conscious, the teens discard their fears and and worries for a few seconds, and let themselves have fun. It's wonderful - Vanessa can't stop laughing, Ferb won't drop his smile. They twirl in the headlights, following no pattern or style but their own unique way of enjoying themselves - uniqueness that seems to match pretty well, since they spend most of the time hand-in-hand.

It's a good playlist - the car seems to know exactly what tunes will bring two introverts out of their shells and what songs will bring them closer, so that they're almost touching - and, as the music slows down - what music will persuade them to lean against each other, swaying slightly.

Their eyes are closed, and, instinctively, without meaning to, Ferb leans down so that their lips are almost touching. Then he catches himself.

Vanessa opens her eyes and realizes that the British boy is trying to decide whether to continue the embrace or not. Does she want him to? Impulsively, she asks the question she was hesitant to pose earlier - "Ferb, have you ever had a girlfriend before?"

He laughs, and leans against the hood of the car. A pink glow touches his cheeks - gone in a moment - and he shakes his head. "I'm only fifteen."

"What?" The words are like a bucket of ice water over Vanessa's head. "Seriously? You're pulling my leg." He shakes his head again. "Sorry, no."

"But you were driving!"

He shrugs. "I told you - I tweaked the car just enough. It's not, actually, technically, a car. I don't legally need the same type of licence to drive it as I would a normal vehicle."

She stands there for a second, staring at him. Yes - he looks young. But the courses he's taking - the school he's doing - he must be some kind of genius. But, then again, he did take her to Paris a few years ago in a plane he built himself. So -

"You're really just fifteen?"

He gets into the car, and starts the engine, sensing that the moment is definitely over. "I had a growth spurt recently."

Vanessa sits down, feeling invisible shock waves still rippling through her. She had thought he was her own age - nineteen. Such a young kid? It's just weird.

If the silences before had been uneasy, the ride back to Vanessa's home is agonizing. She stares determinately out the window, pushing the thoughts that keep popping up in her mind away. He can't be cute, he can't be cool - he's so young. And even though she's desperate to get home, something in her chest skips a beat when he orders her her favourite drink at a drive-through on the way to her dad's apartment, and hands it to her, steaming hot, with an extra caress, hand against hand.

He drops her off at Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc., and, before she can stop herself, she's kissed him on the cheek.

It's enough for now.

Stayed up way too late writing this :P

Someone the other day said Ferbessa was cliché! Well, I don't think it is! No one does enough stories of it! There are waaay too many Phinbella ones (though I do love some of them). Anyway, I don't own any Phineas and Ferb characters/allusions/locations, ect, and I don't own Starbucks, duh.

Oh, and if anyone is reading Apocalypse Autumn, this story can be seen as a backstory for Ferb and Vanessa's relationship, if you want :)