A/N – Yeah, it's Ferbnessa Wedding Stuff, you have been warned. I'm trying to do some short vignettes to present some bits of the planning phase I've had in mind for a while.

Rated T, because you never know what could happen when you put these two together.

The first one takes place the morning after "Midnight in Ackerton."

Wedding Favors 1: Certifiable

Ferb Fletcher pushed the mower over the last few square feet of uncut grass outside the bungalow. A good morning's work, he congratulated himself, surveying the neat lawn. He didn't have to do this the old-fashioned way – he could have thrown together a Mow-Bot, or engineered a device that would shear the grass with a sonic pulse and vaporize the clippings – but he enjoyed the exercise. Nothing like a bit of fresh air and sunshine to make a man feel one with the earth. Now finished, he returned the mower to the garage, cleaned it up and parked it. Grabbing a towel, he vigorously rubbed his head, making the green hair stand in all directions, then wiped his face and hands and headed inside for a shower.

As he walked through the back door and entered the kitchen, Ferb pulled the shirt off over his head and slung it around his neck. He was getting a glass of water when the dulcet tones of his lady love wafted from the living room.

"Ferb? Come here."

She did not sound happy, he noted. And something was clicking. Emerging from the kitchen, he found Vanessa sitting sideways on the couch, fingers pecking away at the keyboard of her laptop as she bit her lip and knit her brow. She let out an exasperated grunt at the computer before she looked up at him. Her indigo eyes went a little dreamy and her expression relaxed for a moment as she gave him that Look – the one he was fairly certain resembled the Look he often felt himself giving her. Ferb had to admit, he enjoyed being on the receiving end of it, and he smiled slightly. Vanessa came out of the reverie with a sigh that turned gloomy and waved a hand at the laptop.

"Paris is going to be a lot harder than I thought," she grumbled.

Last night, she had put forward the idea of marrying him in the City of Love. Ferb had suspected at once that the plan was impractical – but impracticality had never stood in his way before, and Vanessa had been very persuasive… Now he sat down facing her, at the opposite end of the couch, and said, "What's the problem?"

"Well, for a start," she scanned the computer screen, "we can't get married at the top of the Eiffel Tower."

"Piffle," said Ferb, guessing rightly that the word would nudge that You're so British chuckle out of her. "A couple of tourists, exchanging a few words – what are they going to do, call a gendarme?"

"Even if we get away with that, we can't get legally married in Paris. Not without jumping through a lot of hoops." She scrolled up the page she was reading. "You have to do a civil wedding, like a courthouse wedding, before you can do any other kind of ceremony. And before we can do a civil wedding, at least one of us has to live there for forty days, in the area where we're getting married. Ten days for the marriage application. Utility bills to prove residency…" she skimmed, "Passports… Affidavit of Law from a lawyer licensed to practice in France and here… Certificate of Celibacy…"

"Bloody hell!" The exclamation burst without warning from his lips. That ship had sailed long ago, and Ferb had no intention of dragging it back into dry dock now.

Vanessa had been startled by his reaction, but now she snickered a bit before she said, "Calm down, it doesn't mean what you think it means. It's just to prove that you're not already married to someone else."

"Oh." Feeling a bit silly about his outburst, Ferb dryly remarked, "You mean like the madwoman I keep locked in the attic?"

"Yeah," Vanessa smirked, "like that. Just don't let her set the house on fire."

It was so nice to have a fiancee who knew a Jane Eyre reference when she heard one.

Vanessa had returned her attention to the computer and resumed her list of hurdles. "Medical certificate… blood test…"

Ferb's eyes went wide and he suppressed a shudder at this. Vanessa didn't even look up as she said, "Yeah, I knew you'd like that part."

He loved her, he loved her with all his heart, he wanted nothing more in the world than to marry this magnificent woman, but honestly, he had never even stopped to think about needing a blood test… "What if we get married here?" he blurted.

Now Vanessa's head snapped up and she looked at him with a hurt frown. "You are not calling this off over a stupid needle." It was a statement, not a question.

"No one's calling anything off," Ferb protested, stomach still in knots at the mere prospect of having a vein pierced. "We can still go to Paris, we can still call that the wedding, but you're right, we'll never be able to do all that civil marriage business there. We'd might as well pop down to the courthouse here and take care of the legalities, then we can have whatever sort of ceremony we like in Paris."

"You know you may still have to get a blood test here," Vanessa warned.

"Look it up." He pointed her attention back to the computer.

"Ferb," she muttered, shaking her head in that I love you but you're driving me crazy way. It was funny how she could still make him feel ten years old at times. She opened a new window on the laptop screen and typed and clicked until she found what she was looking for. After an interminable amount of silent skimming and scrolling, she finally said, "All right, you're safe, no one's going to stick you with a needle."

"Thank you." His voice was dry and tight. It was absurd, and he really was going to have to do something about it someday, but not right now.

THE END

A/N – The whole point of this was the "certificate of celibacy" gag – there really is such a thing, as I found when I started reading online about destination weddings in Paris. BroadwayFanGirl91 originated Ferb's needle-phobia, and I've had way too much fun abusing him with it.