Phineas scrunched up his nose as he walked into the bar. Between the stench of the drinks served there and the blaring music, it was as claustrophobic as he remembered. He'd only been here once before, not really by choice, people just had the strange idea that dragging him out to places like this was helping him.

Why did people think that if you're young, you automatically want to spend your nights in barrooms and clubs, partying?

He kept his head down, quickly moving towards the back of the room.

The speakers must have been near the front since he could actually hear himself think once he sat down.

Vanessa smiled at him, an already half-empty glass in her hand. "Hey, Phineas. Did you bring it?"

"Yeah." He didn't move to pull out the flash drive. If he was going to back out, this was his last chance. He didn't even know what he was handing over really since he'd grabbed any file containing the keywords she'd given him without actually reading more than a few sentences of each.

What if he was doing the wrong thing here?

But it was Vanessa. How bad could it be? He stared at her.

Okay, so it could be very bad.

He really should have thought about this on the way over. Or anything before that. Alright, he needed to stall.

"I thought your old friend was supposed to meet you here?" Unless it was a play on words and she'd meant him by an old friend. He couldn't tell if that would be a cool or lame thing to do, and Vanessa didn't exactly do lame.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "He's late."

"Only fashionably."

Phineas froze at the voice. He had to be wrong. There was no way he was her old friend. That was impossible. It had to be impossible. He kept his eyes on her.

"Right." Taking a sip of her drink, she turned to look at the maybe-Ferbs and immediately choked.

Maybe-Ferbs moved towards her and clapped her on the back, drawing Phineas' attention to him.

And, shit, it was him. It was confirmed, the universe hated him. Phineas glanced around, heart beginning to pound. Could he run? They'd notice for sure, even with Vanessa coughing like that. Duck under the table? He'd look like an idiot if they saw him. He stared at his lap. Maybe if he stayed still, Ferbs wouldn't pay attention to him.

Vanessa's coughing subsided. "What are you wearing?"

"Why? Do you like it?"

"Like is not the word I would use."

For some inexplicable reason, Ferbs sat down on the table. "Well, what word would you use?"

She didn't say anything but Ferbs snorted like she had.

Phineas frowned. Maybe they were whispering. At least, he hadn't been acknowledged.

"Where are my manners? Ferbs this is Phineas—"

So much for that.

"We've met." Ferbs twisted around to face him. "Do you share in Vanessa's opinion?"

He should have crawled under the table. Still not looking, he tried to force his dry tongue into action. "On what?"

"My outfit."

What did Ferbs want from him? Was this one of those dating custom things where he was supposed to compliment him? Or was it a casual question? Phineas swallowed. Ferbs didn't seem upset at him about their last meeting, but what if he answered wrong and Ferbs retracted whatever forgiveness he'd given him?

Before he could try to formulate a response, Vanessa came to his rescue, possibly not on purpose. "If I thought you'd take me seriously, I wouldn't have said it."

"How else would I take such a brilliant suggestion?" There was a hint of forced sounding innocence in Ferbs' tone.

Vanessa muttered something too low for Phineas to hear over the music.

"So mate," Ferbs paused. "So mate, soulmate, so my mate-"

"I honestly can't tell if you're drunk or if this a side effect of hanging around Dad."

Phineas glanced up just enough to watch them. Or watch Ferbs. If he was drunk already, that added another thing to worry about to Phineas' list.

Blinking, Ferbs picked at one of the manufactured tears in his jeans. "It is reasonably possible that I went to the wrong bar at first."

"Was that before or after you decided to wear the crop-top?" Vanessa raised the now empty glass to her lips before frowning at it.

"I've always liked short shirts."

"What happened to short skirts?"

Ferbs' fingers stilled. "Kilts."

Vanessa blinked. "What?"

Turning to face her, he repeated the word, "Kilts."

"Okay, what happened to short... kilts?" She sounded like she was questioning her own words.

Growing up, there had been several times Phineas had witnessed a conversation between his mom and Candace where things were being said without being said. Most of the time because they were actually speaking of something they didn't want him knowing about. Other times... he didn't actually know what the other times were about.

Anyway, he hadn't liked being talked around then, and he didn't like it anymore now.

"Kilts?" Phineas immediately regretted speaking up when they both looked at him.

A smug grin spread across Ferbs' face. "I have the legs for it."

"Whatever." Vanessa rolled her eyes. "If you boys'll excuse me, I'm going grab a refill." Without waiting for a reply, she left her seat.

"Um." Phineas watched Vanessa back, wishing she had stayed to save him from whatever conversation was coming.

Ferb likewise turned to watch her go. Though, from the way he leaned forward and let his sunglasses slid down a bit, Phineas had a feeling he was looking for very different reasons.

Should he say something about that? It was rude to check out someone else when the person we're supposed to be with is right there, isn't it? Or did Phineas have this backwards? Or maybe it didn't count since they weren't on the best terms at the moment?

Phineas sunk down in his seat. Could the universe just strike him dead already? Or maybe living through this was the punishment it had devised for him.

"Do you not believe me?"

"Huh?" He glanced at Ferbs. "I-no. I'm... sure you have lovely legs?" That was the right thing to say, right? People like compliments. Except, was it a compliment?

And Ferbs was still staring at him. Or probably staring. He was facing him. Couldn't he just take off those sunglasses? So what he had a black-eye? Was that worth the risk of walking into something because it was already way too dark in here without wearing something that blocks out light?

He needed to say something else. Change the subject. Phineas swallowed. He didn't drink, but he starting to consider taking it up. "Aren't kilts Scottish?"

Propping himself up with an arm, Ferbs leaned towards him. "Yes, yes, they are."

Phineas shoved himself against the cushioned back. "But you're not Scottish?" He might know next to nothing about British accents, but he was positive Ferbs' wasn't Scottish.

One eyebrow slipped up on Ferbs' forehead. "Half."

Phineas blinked. Where was Vanessa? Shouldn't she be back by now? "Half what?"

Ferbs didn't reply right away. Then he pulled away from Phineas and sighed. "I'm half Scottish."

Right, he should have put that together. Phineas stared at his hands in his lap. Was Ferbs dragging this out on purpose? Did he want to catch him off guard? Or maybe he didn't want to mess up Vanessa's night out.

That made sense. He was just acting like nothing happened because of her. Phineas felt something ease in his chest. They'd have a nice, calm, friendly time together.

And Ferbs could completely go off on him when they were alone. If they ever were alone.

Which, if it was up to him, they never would be.

"Off the table."

Ferbs jumped off, taking one of the glasses Vanessa was holding. "They couldn't let you use a tray?"

Putting down the other two glasses, she shrugged. Vanessa slid one of them over to Phineas.

He stared at the pinkish liquid. "I don't drink."

Ferbs took the seat next to her.

"It's a Shirley Temple. Zero alcohol."

"Oh." He still didn't make a move to drink it, but he wrapped a hand around the glass just to give himself something to do.

"So," Vanessa started, raising the glass to her lips, "just remember, this makes you the designated driver."

Phineas sighed. He should have found a way out of this when he had the chance.