In Which Ferb Reads a Story and Vanessa Gets a Foot Massage

Ferb Fletcher sat in the big armchair, a well-worn old book open in his right hand. His left knee was occupied by a little girl in a flannel nightgown, who nestled in the safe harbor of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Her short, silky hair was a slightly lighter shade of green than his, and her nose was a smaller shadow of his square one, but her dark blue eyes and the soft shape of her mouth had clearly come from the woman who reclined on the couch nearby. Vanessa loved this time of day, watching and listening as her husband read to their daughter. It was hard to believe that Felicia was already five, and very, very close to becoming a big sister.

The book Ferb held had belonged to his Grandmother when she was a child, along with its companion volume. As a grown woman, she had read from them to Ferb's father, and then to Ferb. Ferb's Gran had given the beloved old books to him when he had moved to America at the age of four, and now it was his turn to share these treasured possessions with his own child. The stories were now Felicia's favorites, and she begged to hear them over and over. Vanessa loved to listen, as well. She had always known the books existed, although she had never read them, herself, nor had the cartoon versions ever interested her. Ferb had no love at all for the cartoons, with their Americanized voices; he was a staunch purist when it came to this bit of his heritage. Vanessa was glad; she adored hearing him read the characters in his own invented voices, each one unique and charming and thoroughly British.

"'Whatever's the matter, Piglet?' said Christopher Robin who was just getting up.
'Heff,' said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, 'a Hell—a Heff—a Heffalump.'
'Where?'
'Up there,' said Piglet, waving his paw.
'What did it look like?'
'Like—like—it had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. A great enormous thing like—like nothing. A huge, big—well, like a—I don't know—like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.'"

Felicia had heard this story a hundred times, and she still giggled at this point.

"'Well,' said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, 'I shall go and look at it. Come on.'
Piglet wasn't afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they went…
'I can hear it, can't you?' said Piglet anxiously, as they got near.
'I can hear something,' said Christopher Robin.
It was Pooh bumping his head against a tree-root he had found.
'There!' said Piglet. 'Isn't it awful?' And he held on tight to Christopher Robin's hand.
Suddenly Christopher Robin began to laugh… and he laughed… and he laughed… and he laughed. And while he was still laughing—Crash went the Heffalump's head against the tree-root, Smash went the jar, and out came Pooh's head again…
Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed of himself that he ran straight off home and went to bed with a headache. But Christopher Robin and Pooh went home to breakfast together.
'Oh, Bear!' said Christopher Robin. "How I do love you!'
'So do I,' said Pooh."

Felicia let out a big, satisfied sigh and said, "That's my favorite one."

"I thought Piglet having a bath was your favorite," Ferb reminded her, teasingly.

"Well, this is my other favorite," she decreed. Then, looking up at him, she asked, "Can we read the one with the Woozles?"

"Not tonight," he answered, setting aside the book. "Time for bed."

Felicia huffed a bit as she droned out a grudging, "Allll righhhht."

Ferb chuckled at her tone, patting her back as she slid down from his lap, and he looked at his wife as if to say, Where do you suppose she gets that from? Vanessa wrinkled her nose at him and wondered if he would still find this behavior so adorable when their daughter was a sulky sixteen-year-old. Felicia was oblivious to this exchange between her parents, however, as she ran to the couch and reached up for a hug. Vanessa wrapped both arms tight around her little girl and pulled her up as close as she could. "Good night, Sweet Pea."

She laid a trail of noisy smooches around Felicia's cheeks and forehead until the giggling child kissed her lips and said, "'Night, Mummy." Then Felicia squirmed out of her mother's arms, and pressed her cheek to her mother's belly, where she whispered, "Good night, Victor."

"All right, my dear," her father summoned her. "Let's see if you can beat your old Dad up the stairs." This was all the prompting Felicia needed to bolt from the living room. With a chuckle, and a glance at his wife that said, Be right back, Ferb followed in his daughter's wake. Vanessa listened to their ascending footsteps and muffled voices as Felicia was tucked in for the night. Shifting herself on the couch, she felt Victor give a protesting kick, and she ran a comforting hand over her belly. Her daughter had been a fairly easygoing infant, but she already suspected that her Baby Boy was going to be more sensitive and fussy. Vanessa grunted slightly as she tried to get comfortable, and Ferb returned to the living room. His look asked if she was all right, and she nodded as he came to help sort out the sofa pillows behind her back. Once she was settled, Ferb left a kiss on her forehead, and went to sit at the far end of the couch, gathering her feet onto his lap.

"No tickling!" Vanessa warned, as he removed her plush purple slippers.

"Tsk, Mrs. Fletcher," Ferb scolded. "I have been massaging your feet for years, and never once have I tickled."

It was true, she sighed happily, as he pressed his palm firmly into the arch of her foot and began to knead. Vanessa swore that, if any girl ever asked her for marriage advice, the first words out of her mouth would be, Find a man who's good with his hands. His confident touch soothed her, and her growing sense of serenity seemed to calm the baby, as well. Slowly, quietly, Ferb worked at relaxing her, and her eyelids were drooping when she finally murmured, "Any new ideas on the name front?"

He made a little negative sound in his throat and shook his head. They had decided on Victor as their preferred name for a boy before they had known Felicia's gender, but even now, on the verge of his birth, they had yet to come up with a suitable middle name for him. Felicia's had been easy; from the start, Ferb had set his heart on using Winifred, his beloved Gran's name, as a middle name for any daughter they might have. Vanessa knew that, despite his own odd inheritance of names, Ferb still had a soft spot for choosing ones with family significance, but this had only complicated things. He thought that, since Winifred had come from his side, Victor's middle name should come from Vanessa's ancestry.

The trouble with that was, Vanessa's family history wasn't as happy as that of the Fletchers. Her mother's choice to keep the ridiculous name of Doofenshmirtz even after the divorce spoke volumes about the relationship with the maternal branches of the tree, and her father's tragic catalog of emotionally scarring backstories made any choice from his side unappealing, too. Now, Vanessa asked her husband again, "You're really certain you don't want to use Reginald?"

Ferb nodded. "It's not fair to use my grandparents' names for both of them."

"Who says we have to be fair?" she challenged. "Come on, Ferb, isn't there some Lord Fauntleroy Fletcher, Romantic Poet, in your family tree?"

He made a wryly amused face at this and answered, "No, and even if there were, I draw the line at Fauntleroy." Stretching out her toes with his thumb, he ventured cautiously, "You know, Victor Heinz Fletcher really isn't so dreadful—"

"No!" Vanessa actually gave his hand an involuntary kick. "We are not using my father's name. That's exactly what he wants, and I'm tired of hearing about it. I swear, if he says one more word to me, we're naming the baby Victor Roger!" However much her relationship with Dad had improved over the years, his constant hint-dropping about the virtues of 'Heinz' had gone far enough. She stewed for a minute as Ferb, unfazed, resumed rubbing her feet. Calming only slightly, Vanessa muttered, "With my luck, he's probably going to look like my father. Then I'll never hear the end of it." Ferb began gently flexing her ankles, and she gradually relaxed again. "I don't know," she considered, "maybe we should just pick a nice name that doesn't mean anything. Like Daniel, or Jeffrey."

"No…" Ferb's protest came in a softer tone, but no less decisive. "I'd like for it to mean something."

They both sighed in unison, as Vanessa wearily closed her eyes, and Ferb thoughtfully caressed her heels. Neither spoke for several minutes, and then Vanessa felt her husband's hands fall still. When she roused herself to look at him, she found him gazing absently at nothing, a pensive smile curling his lips.

"Ferb…?"

He faced her, and she recognized the light of inspiration in his eyes as his soft, deep voice ventured, "I've got it."

"What?" she prompted, hardly daring to hope.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this before," he murmured, practically glowing. "It's brilliant. It's significant for both of us, and I think even your father will approve. I'm only surprised Phineas didn't snatch it up first."

And, listening to him, Vanessa knew. She knew exactly what Ferb was thinking. "Perry."

When she said it, he responded with a delighted chuckle, and uttered, "Victor Perry Fletcher."

It was perfect.

THE END

A/N – I started writing this some time ago, and had to put it on hold until I had written "The Other Kiss" and "Our Mutual Friend" (oh, yeah, go read those now if you haven't).

If you want to know more about Victor, read "It's a Dad Thing" and Chapter 7 (Amount) of "Vignettes a la Carte." Felicia also appears in those stories, and is the subject of "Up All Night," plus both Fletcher children are in Chapter 4 (Vacation) of "The Ferbnessa Sketchbook."

Obviously, the excerpt Ferb reads early in this story is by A. A. Milne from "Winnie the Pooh." It is from Chapter 5, "In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump." (Oh, and that's why I titled this story beginning with "In Which…" since that's how all the Pooh chapter titles begin. My original title for this was "In Which Victor Gets a Middle Name," but that was wayyyy too much of a spoiler. Also, trivia: In "Vanessa's New Wheels," when Ferb leaves the note that says, "Gone Out. Back Soon. F." that is lifted from Christopher Robin's note at the end of Chapter 5 of "House at Pooh Corner.") I loved the idea of Ferb growing up on the Pooh books, and being a "purist" when it comes to the cartoon versions, and could just imagine him making up his own, appropriately British voices for the characters. (FYI, I still love the original Pooh stories and am also fine with the Disney versions.)

Dan Povenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh own Ferb & Vanessa, and I hope you caught my little shout-out to them in the story!