Chapter Text
Phineas never paid much mind to his freckles growing up.
They were simply a part of him! Not good, not bad, just there.
In fact, he didn’t fully become conscious of how they might affect his physical appearance until high school.
This was thanks to a single comment from one Buford Van Stomm, muttered as he dappled foundation across Phineas’s face for How To Thrive in Enterprise (Without Having to Think Much About It): The Book: The Musical tech rehearsal their sophomore year.
“Wow, Dinnah Bell. You’ve got a LOT of freckles.”
Phineas remembered being perplexed by this.
Not by the comment itself because duh, of course he had a lot of freckles. That was as obvious as his hair being red or head not making any biological sense.
But the way Buford said it, with an eyebrow cocked and a slight smirk on his face, it was almost like it was a….bad thing?
But why would it be bad?
Did freckles look weird?
Did he look weird?
These questions stuck with Phineas, echoing in his head night after night, becoming as important a part of his show routine as asking Buford for help with his bowtie 15 minutes before places, hiding behind a 2D-skyscraper in the middle of the opening number to hand Baljeet a prop briefcase, pretending to read a book with Isabella for exactly 28 bars of music while a particularly boring scene happened downstage of them, picking a different book from the shelf each night and making random small talk about it with her and trying to get her to laugh but not too hard, obviously, so as not to distract from the scene and speaking of distracting she’d looked really pretty in her costume and–
What was the point again?
Right. Freckles.
Even after final bows, after Phineas traded examining his reflection in a smudged, barely-accessible-because-there-are-too-many-people-in-here vanity mirror for doing so in the familiar pink one he sat with when he missed his sister…..the thoughts persisted.
Fast forward two musicals and three years later: Phineas managed to go his entire high school career without being asked on a single date.
He knew this wasn't abnormal. Dating wasn’t exactly the end-all-be-all of the high school experience (contrary to what most teen media would’ve had him believe).
Compared to his two most immediate frames of reference, though, he was the odd one out.
Candace had been asked on plenty of dates by Jeremy before they officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. (Or, “b-word” and “g-word,” to be specific.)
And Ferb had received an abundance of invitations from many people. He still did, according to he and Phineas’ tri-weekly FaceTime calls.
Phineas, meanwhile, had spent many an evening upstairs waiting for his brother to return from various outings, sometimes working on a blueprint or filling out a college application at Candace’s vanity, other times sitting in his bedroom window as he read or tinkered with new inventions or just gazed at the pretty pink house across the street.
And what did Phineas have an abundance of that Ferb totally lacked and Candace had in far more limited supply?
Freckles.
Freckles on his eyelids, freckles dotting his cheeks, freckles trailing down his arms.
Lots of freckles! No date invitations.
(Obviously these two things didn’t correlate directly, but said correlation stuck in Phineas’ brain regardless. Maybe there was a deeper reason for this but he wasn’t going to unpack all that.)
Phineas didn’t really care he’d never been asked on a date, at least not in a general sense. There was only one girl he’d ever wanted to be asked out by anyway.
(Still wanted to be asked out by. Very badly.)
But it was hard NOT to notice the lack of romantic attention he received compared to his siblings, even if he didn’t want to receive it the way Ferb did, even if he’d long surpassed the opportunity to have a high school romance the way Candace did.
Was it really due to something as superficial as a bunch of freckles?
Or was there a deeper issue? Something wrong with him? Some fatal flaw that kept him pining for the girl who’d gone from across the street to across campus in a dorm he’d never set foot in instead of admitting the only things he had in larger abundance than freckles were feelings for her?
But what would be the point in making such an admission?
If no one else perceived him in that way, be it in Danville or beyond, why would she?
Better to just stay friends with her, and to NOT make things awkward by asking her out himself.
(Regardless of how often he daydreamed about kissing–-or being kissed by–-her.)
Isabella had always been fond of Phineas’ freckles, and as she aged it got harder and harder to ignore.
It was one of the first things she noticed when she grew conscious of her romantic feelings for him at approximately six years old.
She never quite stopped noticing.
Isabella herself had no freckles, perhaps that’s what made Phineas’ so fascinating.
(But Irving had freckles too and. Well. He was fascinating alright. Just not Phineas Flynn, kind-to-the-point-it-made-you-weak-in-the-knees-fascinating.)
Even as she made it to high school….and then past high school…and told herself she needed to get over Phineas already because he clearly didn’t reciprocate her not-quite-platonic feelings, he just did things for her all the time because he was her friend and just nice like that, well…..one look at his freckled face was enough to make her remember just how deeply she felt those not-quite-platonic feelings.
Even now.
In college.
She didn’t want to admit how many times she’d daydreamed about them.…especially (and unfortunately) in Oceanography, where he sat right in her line of view of the professor.
Talk about embarrassing.
But Isabella would endure.
She’d gone over a decade keeping her feelings (and admiration of Phineas’ freckles) a secret. And it was a gift to still live in the same place as him even after they grew up.
If he hadn’t realized any long dormant feelings for her by now, he never would, and that was okay! They were friends. And she would not jeopardize that.
(Regardless of how badly she wanted to kiss every single freckle on his face.)
By sheer coincidence (though perhaps it wasn’t entirely coincidence on Phineas’s part) Isabella and Phineas ended up at the same college, Tri-State State.
They were still best friends by virtue of being best friends since they’d been in Pre-K, but it was the kind of friendship where two people don’t have to talk every day, one of history and precedence more than anything.
This wasn’t to say they DIDN’T talk or hang out. But it was a far cry from what it used to be.
By even SHEERER coincidence (though, again, it wasn’t actually coincidence), on the eve of their first Valentine’s Day spent anywhere but Danville, Phineas and Isabella found themselves hosting a crafting event in the quad as part of their work studies.
Isabella had replied, “I'm available, thank you for the opportunity,” on the email thread asking who might like to work the event first.
If she was going to be single and somewhat sad on Valentine’s Day, she might as well get paid for it, right?
Phineas, meanwhile, barely gave the initial email a passing glance….and then Isabella’s reply popped into his inbox.
His reply exclaiming, “I’m available, I’ll be there, sign me up!!” popped into hers just minutes later.
Isabella hadn’t been able to suppress a grin as she read over his enthusiastic–-and somewhat unprofessional–-words.
Maybe it was wishful thinking to hope he'd volunteered just to spend time with her but, regardless of his intention, they’d get to spend Valentine’s Day together!!!!
11 year old Isabella would be doing backflips if she could see this turn of events!
Phineas and Isabella waved awkwardly at a student who’d approached their table for approximately half a minute, realized they didn’t have any food, and made a hasty retreat.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!!” Isabella called out. She glanced at Phineas, made a face, and whispered, “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
“His loss!” Phineas replied with a shrug.
“Well.” Isabella squinted at her clipboard. “That’s….half a dozen Valentines made in three hours. Good thing we get paid no matter what, right?”
Phineas nodded, scooping some ribbon into a bin before pulling a small box out of his pocket. “Absolutely. And, make that half a dozen…and one!!”
He handed the box to Isabella, whose heart gave a jolt in her chest.
“Oh! Phineas, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Just open it!!” he insisted with a grin. She did just that, and an origami butterfly with shimmery purple wings burst out in a flurry of confetti and miniature streamers, making a few laps around Isabella before coming to rest on her shoulder.
Isabella beamed, setting down the box before gently grasping the delicate craft and cradling it in her hands.
“Phineas, it’s beautiful, thank you!! I love butterflies.”
“And confetti and streamers, right?!”
Isabella chuckled and rolled her eyes.
Leave it to Phineas to hang on to one slightly-misguided comment from Buford for years.
“Of course. How did you get it to fly??”
“I’ll teach you sometime!” he replied.
Isabella looked back down at her gift and frowned, suddenly unable to meet Phineas’ gaze.
“I…I’m sorry I don’t have a Valentine for you….”
(She’d considered making him one, or perhaps printing out an old photo from when they were kids. But she’d been too nervous.)
“It’s okay!!” Phineas insisted. “Just being with you is the best Valentine’s gift I could ask for!!!”
This comment hung in the air a moment…
And then Phineas coughed and whirled away from the love of his life, busying himself with tidying stacks of paper as flushed as his face.
Isabella just stared at him, her own face a similar rosy hue.
“So….is that why you agreed to work this shift?” she found herself asking (against her better judgement), taking a step closer and sweeping some scattered sequins into their container. “To spend time with me? You replied to my email pretty fast.”
Phineas winced, afraid to admit how right she was.
"Well, I mean, there were multiple reasons!!! Spending time with you, obviously, not to mention earning a cool $7.50 an hour…”
Isabella chuckled at that.
“...and where else would I be on Valentine’s Day?” he continued. “Certainly not on a date.”
Isabella tried to ignore the horrific stab of pain in her chest at the faintest notion of Phineas on a date with anyone who wasn’t her.
“He said certainly not on a date,” she thought. “Calm down, Fireside Girl. Er, former Fireside Girl.”
“Why certainly not?” she asked.
Phineas shrugged sheepishly.
He couldn’t exactly say: “well no one asked me. and even if they had asked it wouldn’t matter because the only person I ever want to go out with is you but I’m afraid to ask you out in case you don’t feel that way about me because that would make everything awkward. well. more awkward. And I might lose you as a friend.”
“I don’t think anyone perceives me as a romantic prospect.”
Well, hang on. He didn’t want to give Isabella the wrong idea.
“Not that I want them to!”
Aaaand that was a different but still wrong (well, not wrong! Just wrong for him.) idea.
“I mean—uh, it’s not that I don’t WANT to be perceived in that way ever just not by like. Random people. Most people.”
“Anyone who isn’t named Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, bravest girl I’ve ever met, curly black hair, literally the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.”
“Am I over-explaining this?”
“No, I understand,” Isabella assured him. “Honestly, I feel the same way.”
It took Phineas a moment to process that.
“....really?”
Isabella nodded.
She almost felt guilty at the relief blossoming in her chest, even as a bit of unease crept up as well.
Emphasis on almost.
Because obviously Phineas’ theory about not being perceived as a romantic prospect was untrue. He was—for better or worse—her only and eternal romantic prospect.
Even if she couldn’t come out and say that for fear of losing their friendship and making attending the same college unbearable, he deserved to know he WAS perceivable in that way.
Regardless of if he wanted to be perceived that way by her.
(She wouldn’t dwell on that last part too much, the concept of Phineas not wanting to be perceived by her in that way made her chest ache, even if he couldn’t help it.)
“Well, whatever type of person you DO want to perceive you as a romantic prospect, they’re missing out,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “You’re a catch.”
Warmth flared across Phineas’ face, eyebrows practically catapulting off his head.
“......me??? A catch?????”
His stomach seemed to be doing somersaults. Or maybe it was his heart? Both??
“Oh, I don’t think….if anything YOU’RE the catch, I mean look at you!!!!!”
He gestured to Isabella.
“Why aren’t you on a date???”
(Why wasn’t she on a date? Phineas wondered this often, as selfishly happy as it made him it made no sense. Isabella was so kind and so smart and so passionate and funny and frankly Phineas figured half of their class must be in love with her and yet she was thankfully—but confoundingly—single.)
“Let’s not change the subject!” Isabella said quickly, even as her heart gave a flutter.
Obviously she wasn’t on a date. Who would she want to date other than Phineas? And how could she even go about explaining that?
“I know I’m a catch. Not because of some other person telling me I am or pursuing me, I just know it.”
(Though of course it made her head spin to know Phineas considered her a catch. She’d be replaying that moment over and over in her head later for sure, but right now she had more important things to see to.)
“The question is, do you know you’re one too?”
She put a few glue sticks down and turned to face Phineas directly.
“Because if you don’t know it by now you should know it, Phineas Flynn. You are. You’re kind and funny and smart. Not to mention cute.”
Phineas’ heart hammered.
“Isabella thinks I’m a catch!!!!!!”
wait.
“….Isabella…..thinks I’m a catch. like….in a general sense…..or……..?”
Perhaps it was time to. Take a calculated risk?
“Well—” he stuttered. “Uh!! Even if I am a catch. What does it matter if there’s only one person I’d ever want to catch me? And I don’t know if she wants to? And if I tell her and she in fact doesn’t I might lose her forever?”
(Was that too on the nose??)
Isabella’s eyes widened.
Her?
“I’m a her.”
Perhaps billions of people used that same pronoun but.
She was included in that list of billions.
And certainly Phineas’ closest person-who-wasn't-a-family-member to be included in it.
Unless there was some other girl she didn’t know about but NO. No. That was not a road Isabella needed to travel down. And Phineas wasn’t out here cleaning up generic brand glue sticks and talking about romantic perceptions at 7pm on Valentine's Day with another girl right?
Did deductive reasoning or delusion propel her next move? Who’s to say.
“….how do you know she doesn’t?”
Her words were soft, almost a whisper.
But Phineas heard them loud and clear. At this point, his heart could win a marathon.
“....what?"
Isabella dared to step a bit closer to the boy who’d claimed her heart so long ago—and subsequently ended up much closer as her foot caught on a root and sent her falling forward.
“Isabella!!!!!”
She stumbled into him with a shriek, Phineas instinctively grabbing her waist to catch her.
“Are you okay???”
Isabella nodded, heart thudding as she gazed up at him.
“Yes! Yes I am. Thank you.”
In all the commotion, her hands had ended up on his shoulders. And he hadn't let go of her waist yet.
Neither of them leaned away.
Isabella lifted one of her hands, gingerly thumbing a speck of rogue glitter from Phineas’s cheek with a hint of a smile.
“But back to the question at hand. How do you know she doesn’t, Phineas?“
Phineas did his best to stay balanced as Isabella’s fingers lingered at his face, thread from a long abandoned mental cork board concerning her own feelings slowly stretching across both years of memories and everything that had happened in the past few minutes to tentatively connect dots he’d never been able to before.
“……does she?” he breathed.
But Isabella just hummed softly rather than answering. It had been awhile since she was close enough to Phineas to admire his freckles—to count them, even!!—and she would not take this opportunity for granted, eyes slowly tracing their speckled path, admiring how they lay scattered like stars across his forehead and nose and lips.
She couldn’t help the dreamy giggle that escaped her own lips at that last notion.
“.....Isabella?”
“Yes?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Why wouldn’t she meet his eyes? Phineas was more than ready for Isabella to answer his first question, but perhaps a second was more immediate.
“What are you looking at?”
“Your freckles,” she replied matter of factly.
(That wasn’t the whole truth. But perhaps Phineas could tell which particular freckles she was most interested in right now.)
“My.....freckles?” he said hesitantly (he, unfortunately, could not tell which particular freckles she was most interested in right now).
Just a HINT of the old insecurity prickled in his gut. This was it, the moment Isabella finally took a good look at him and decided, no, that’s one too many freckles, one too many weird inventions, quirks, awkward encounters for any one person let alone a romantic prospect, have a good night my childhood friend and former neighbor and never lover see you in Oceanography on Tuesday.
“Yeah……” Isabella sighed, gently grazing his lip with her thumb.
Lucky thumb.
“I wish I could kiss them.”