AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the first chapter to the second Phineas and Ferb story, guys! Sick Streak! If you want info on certain things in here, check out the description on the post on my DA page.

Ferb walked slowly down the stairs that Monday morning, dressed in his usual attire and shoulder bag at the ready. Since it was sunny that day, he had pulled out his sunglasses along with his black coat. He sighed heavily, announcing his presence to his parents, who were sitting at the table, eating breakfast.

Perry crawled down the stairs after his owner.

"It's about time you boys come downstairs," Linda said sternly while standing up. "Did you pack your suitcase, Ferb?"

Ferb nodded. His parents were leaving on a short business trip for their store, and so he and Phineas would be spending the week at their sister's house. Perry the Platypus, of course, would be accompanying them.

"Of course, I shouldn't be asking you that question," his stepmother muttered, making her husband chuckle. "You always seem to get things prepared a day in advance. It's Phineas who needs reminding. He inherited that feature from his biological father."

Ferb grinned weakly at this; he knew how forgetful his stepbrother could be when his imagination got the better of him. He often teased Phineas because of it.

"Speaking of which, did he finally get up too?" Linda added. "Because the bus will be here in twenty minutes."

At these words, Ferb replied with a simple yet firm shake of the head. His mother did not seem the least bit pleased by this. "Is he still up there inventing something?" she groaned.

Ferb gave her an uneasy look. "Well, not exactly, Mum," he replied, setting his bag down.

"He's just goofing off then, isn't he?" Before Ferb could reply, Linda left the table and stormed towards the stairs. "Phineas Flynn, you had better be getting ready, Young Man!" she shouted from the foot of the stairs. When no one replied, she groaned loudly and began the ascent.

"Oh dear," Lawrence muttered, getting to his feet and running after her. "Linda, Dear, he's probably just teasing you again. Don't get upset!"

Ferb ran after him. "Uh, actually, Father, he's—!"

"I don't care if he's throwing pebbles out the window again and accidentally hitting the neighbour's windows," Linda replied as she walked up to the boys' room. "When it's time for school, he needs to get up! PHINEAS!"

"Mother, don't yell!" Ferb warned her as he and Lawrence turned the corner and followed the woman into the room.

"I'm tired of having to wake him up every morning!" Linda stormed up to the raft-shaped bed, placed her hands on her hips and glared at the mound of covers that shielded her son from view. "Phineas Flynn, I am not going to repeat it, Mister!" she snapped while grabbing the sheets. "It is time to get ready for schoo—!"

She pulled the covers back incredibly quickly but stopped dead in her words as Lawrence and Ferb arrived. Linda covered her mouth in shock. "Phineas?" she gasped.

Phineas was still lying in bed, though completely dressed for school in his baggy jeans and spanish orange sweater; however, his face was incredibly pale, his hair was a mess and his eyes were rimmed in red when he opened them. By the way he flinched and moaned, it was clear that the amount of noise and light was causing him pain.

"Blimey," Lawrence muttered in shock.

"He's got a fever, so I told him to stay in bed," Ferb explained, although he was peeved that his mother had bothered to disturb his brother before receiving an explanation. "But he refused to listen to me. When I returned from doing my business in the bathroom, he was already dressed. So I put him back in bed myself."

Linda looked at him. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" she wondered.

Ferb shot her a slightly irritated frown. But all he did to reply was shrug.

Linda and Lawrence exchanged a glance before realizing that Phineas was sitting up. Linda let go of the blankets and watched as her fifteen-year-old son began to shakily raise himself to his feet. "Phineas, maybe you should stay home," she instructed.

Phineas placed a hand on his lamp to keep his balance. "N-n-no, I'm fine," he croaked sickly. "I-I-I need to go to school."

Lawrence placed a hand over the teenager's forehead and gasped softly. "Go to school?" he echoed. "Are you daft, boy? You're as hot as a tea kettle!"

"I f-f-feel fine, Dad."

Ferb passed a hand over his face. "He wants to go to school because he's the lead role in our play," he explained. When his parents looked at him, he added, "Rehearsal is today after school in the auditorium. He's playing Romeo."

"That's ridiculous, Phineas!" Linda objected, looking at her youngest son again. "You are not going to school just because you're in a play!"

"B-b-but I feel fine, Mom," Phineas replied. He sat down on the bed again and grabbed his backpack that was sitting on the floor. He coughed loudly. "I-I-I'll probably feel better the more the day goes on…"

"Phineas, we can drop you off at Candace's on the way to the airport," his mother replied as Phineas stood up again. "I don't want you to get sick while at school."

"I won't get sick."

"Famous last words," Ferb muttered under his breath.

Linda rubbed her chin and looked at Lawrence. All her husband did was shrug, although concern was in his eyes. Linda waited a moment longer before sighing and looking at Phineas again. "Alright, go to school," she said. "But if you feel the least bit queasy, give your sister a call. Knowing her, she probably won't be thrilled to come and get you, but I don't want you spending the day at a school filled with teenagers if you're going to be nauseous. Is that clear?"

Without waiting for an answer, Linda turned around and pointed at Ferb. "Keep an eye on him, and if he refuses to call Candace, do it for him," she instructed. "You're better at calling for help in situations like these than he is; he's too stubborn to do a good job."

"I'm standing right here, Mom," Phineas groaned irritatingly while glaring at his mother. "I may be ill-looking, but my ears are working just fine."

Ferb could not help but crack a grin at this while his father chuckled behind his hand. Linda simply looked at him and shrugged apologetically. "Stop being that bad and I'll stop naggin," she replied. "Deal?"

Phineas did not reply and reached for his sketchbook. Unfortunately, Ferb had noticed him do so, and had grabbed the book only moments before his brother did, much to Phineas' dismay. The British sixteen-year-old shook his head. "I'll keep this," he replied. "You wouldn't want to throw up on it, would you?"

Phineas wrinkled his nose and glared coldly at him as Ferb smiled. "You torture me for pleasure," he croaked, making his parents laugh.

"You're a pain, you know that?"

Ferb looked over at his brother as they rode the bus to school. Phineas was sitting against the window, as usual, but he had his hood over his head and his coat collar flipped upwards. With a stubborn frown over his pale face, the teenager crossed his arms and looked out the window.

With a weak grin, the green-haired teenager returned to his book. "How so?" he asked.

"I want my sketchbook back," Phineas muttered.

"I'll give it to you once you're well again."

"Since when have you become my doctor?"

Ferb raised his eyes heavenward before closing his book and looking at Phineas again. "You do realize that you have a fever of precisely 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit, right?" he pointed out gently.

"I don't care. I've never cared about being sick, Ferb." Phineas hugged himself tighter and coughed violently. "You remember when I organized that sick day for you Isabella, Baljeet, Buford and me? I was sick. Sick, sick, sick. And yet I played video games. All you did was sit and read your book while a wooden cuckoo bird tapped your controller."

"Which is why I got rid of my cough earlier than you did," Ferb pointed out.

Phineas turned his head and narrowed his eyes. "I'm just burning myself, aren't I?" he realized while finally grinning.

Ferb grinned amusingly and nodded. Phineas simply returned to staring out the window.

"Phineas, don't you think you're overdoing it this time?" Ferb pointed out gently. "I mean, going to school simply for a play is ridiculous. The teacher already loves your acting, not to mention your role has been conserved. You'll just faint up there. She'll understand if you're sick."

"I'm not actually just doing this for the play, Ferb," Phineas replied. "That's why I wanted my sketchbook back."

At these words, Ferb widened his eyes in shock and then frowned. "You're going to school because of lunch hour?" he guessed, unimpressed by the least. When all Phineas did was look away, Ferb groaned and slapped his forehead. "Phineas, why on Earth would you do that? That's the most absurd thing you could possibly—!"

"I've got an idea and it needs to come out," Phineas argued, looking at his brother again. "So I want my—!"

"The moment I give you that sketchbook, you're going to be so drowned in that imagination of yours, you won't realize that you've passed out!" Ferb snapped quietly.

"But I know what we—!"

"Don't give me that line! I know what you're going to do today, and that's rest! I refuse to give you your sketchbook or build anything until you've gotten better, so live with it!"

Phineas groaned loudly and nearly glued himself against the cold window. "This is soooo stupid!" he moaned. "I've got an idea stuck in my brain, and my so-called action-before-words stepbrother has suddenly learned how to verbalize long enough to give me a lecture! Why do you only speak this much when you want to give me a lecture?"

"I'm not lecturing you," Ferb replied in his usual soft voice. His dark blue eyes softened. "I'm only watching out for you."

Phineas' frown dissipated and he sighed heavily before sinking into the seat. "I know," he muttered. "… Not to mention complaining is just making me feel even more exhausted…"

"Then why did you want to come to school?"

"Are we actually going to restart this, Ferb?"

These words made Ferb chuckle softly before he opened up his book again. "Obviously not," he muttered.

"I've never missed a day of school, Ferb," Phineas continued. "Never. Since day one. Except for the occasional doctor's appointment or dentist appointment." He hugged himself. "Breaking that streak… and breaking our invention streak… is the last thing I want to do."

"Phineas, you're already a straight A student."

"And you're a straight A plus."

"My point is that one missed day of inventing and classes because you are ill is for the better. I'm pretty sure the teachers won't mind you staying home because you're sick with the flu."

Phineas did not reply. He simply paused and sighed heavily. "Fine," he croaked before closing his eyes. "If I feel worse, I'll call Candace. Does that make you feel better?"

Ferb grinned without looking up from his book. "Very," he replied. There was a short moment of silence before he felt Phineas lean his head against his shoulder. Trying not to move too much, Ferb turned his head.

"Wake me when we get there, will you?" Phineas whispered tiredly.

Ferb settled down against the seat to make Phineas more comfortable and looked at his book again. It was not often that he expressed his protectiveness of his brother, but after spending five years doing the most amazing feats with him and simplemindedly facing dangers without a hint of fear in their hearts, Ferb had grown to not only admire Phineas' perseverance, optimism and creativity, but he also cherished it. They had grown so close to each other that, in fact, Ferb felt it was his duty to remind Phineas that he was still human, thus needing to physically take care of himself.

If that meant skipping a day of inventing, then so be it.

The English-born teenager grinned weakly for a moment. "I won't build anything until you've recovered," he whispered. "I promise."

Phineas hummed weakly in reply before drifting off.