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Peregrine Bartholomew Fletcher, better known as Perry, mid forties, woke up to his alarm at 8am. He drug himself out of bed in spite of the aches and pains that come with his job. His real job as a secret agent working to thwart evil daily, not his cover job as a novelist like his family thinks. As an elite agent of O.W.C.A, the organization without a cool acronym, Perry has been across the world, usually in various uncomfortable situations that lead to more aches and pains. Some days he wishes he could live a regular life, one where he is the novelist his family thinks he is. Where vacation days don't get rejected in favor of overtime, and where he can spend time with his family without being summoned away to fight evil. Well…not all evil is too bad to fight. He grabs his glasses, without which it would be impossible to navigate the house on Maple Drive and makes his way to the bathroom.
Standing before the mirror, he examines his reflection. Short teal hair is a sleep created mess that desperately needs a brushing and similarly colored five o’clock shadow has made itself known, contrasting with his dark skin. Behind the simple black rectangular frames, tired brown eyes gaze back at an equally tired looking expression. A bruise has started to bloom along the underside of his square jaw, and there's no easy way to cover it up before breakfast. Even with the bruise he is, he knows, a decent looking man. But like this, in a faded horse in a bookcase shirt and pajama pants with sleep still clouding his mind, it's easy to feel normal. It's nice to feel normal. Especially when life usually isn't.
Downstairs, Candace Flynn screams something unintelligible, and Perry tries to repress a sigh and fond smile. The house has begun to wake up.
Breakfast is a rowdy affair in its own way. His brother's wife has been up for an hour by now and she greets Perry with a wave and a smile.
“Oh good morning Perry, did you sleep well?”
‘I slept good. I still can't believe I walked into a pole yesterday.’
His signing isn't the most clear this early, but it gets the point across and his sister in law chuckles.
“Stop signs can be sneaky like that. Just as long as you aren't too badly hurt.”
Sneaky wouldn't be the word he would use considering the stop sign had been swung at him in the hands of a mechabot. But it's close enough to the truth, so he chuckles sheepishly.
‘Nothing rest won't fix.’
“Good Morning Uncle Perry!”
The bright voice of Phineas is a balm to his tired soul, as is the wave that Ferb offers.
Though Perry prefers to sign for communication, he's aware that his oldest nephew is perfectly content being mostly silent on all levels. Either way it's a good start to the day to see both boys with bright eyes.
Candace is less composed this early, and Perry sneaks her a cup of coffee before either Linda or Lawrence notice. The teen is barely awake, hair unbrushed and eyes closed. Even with these handicaps, the red head finds her chair as she chats away on the phone, her voice the only thing about her that shows any signs of being awake.
Six people is a lot around the small table, but they make it work. Perry enjoys these morningings, listening to Phineas and occasionally Ferb talk about what project they will pick today, steering them away from anything that has the risk of being too dangerous, Lawrence remarking on the latest game between the Sniffington Nostrils and the Wellingboro Buckets, meanwhile Linda is busy cleaning the dishes and planning her day. It's chaotic, Candace winds up with cereal in her hair, and it is undeniably the best way to wake up.
Perry helps clean up the mess as Lawrence gives everyone one last hug before heading to the Antique shop, giving Candace a ride to the mall on his way.
“Uncle Perry, do you think you can help us with our lawn chair hover craft taxi service today?”
He is, the spy knows, part of the reason Linda never believes her daughter when Candace comes to her with news of the boy's latest creation. Only partially. He has, on several occasions, corroborated the news. Nothing seems to make a difference.
Perry smiles at the boys.
‘I’ll supervise.’ He signs, playing up his exhaustion on his face. ‘Still tired from being up late working on my book.’
Phineas nods.
“That sounds good! And hey, if you ever need help, the 28 volume science fiction, swashbuckling, historical, romance, tell all, pot boiler, mystery, satire, buddy cop, adventure, tragedy, how to, action novel that Ferb and I wrote has been selling really well. We’d be happy to share our ideas.”
Ferb confirms this with a simple thumbs up, and Perry shakes his head and grins.
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
It's just as the first prototype hover thruster is being attached to the lawn chair that Perry's watch beeps. He covers the sound with a cough, waving at the boys to let them know he is going inside.
While Linda isn't looking, Perry backs out of the room, hand still clamped over his still beeping watch. Fortunately it doesn't seem like anyone has noticed, and it's good that he doesn't have to make any excuses this time. Perry finds the nearest entrance to his underground lair, a potted plant lever that opens a shoot straight down. By now, he is used to the automatic dressing machine. The mechanical hands are at least programmed to be polite enough to fold his clothes and send them back upstairs even as his kevlar vest and white button up shirt is unceremoniously thrust over his head, and his slacks pulled up past his ankles. He has to beat the sock applicator away with a fist. After the first few disastrous runs with it, the teal haired man has learned it's safer to put on his own socks rather than wind up hog tied in the tubes.
Said tube spits him out above a rubber crash pad, and he smoothly somersaults through the landing to stand in the center of his lair. He spares a moment to pull on his socks and shoes and takes a comb out of his vest to slick back his hair into something presentable, before taking his seat at the large monitor and bank of levers and switches.
Without having to touch anything, an older man, perhaps twenty years or so Perry’s senior, comes onto the giant screen.
“Good Morning Agent P- it is still morning I think.”
Major Monogram is, at least on first impression, everything one might expect of a man who went from the lowest ranks of a spy agency to one of the top. Close cropped white hair and an impressive mustache dominate his facial features, and a monobrow that has likely never been willingly shaved or plucked gives the air of constant dissatisfaction to an already prominent brow.
All this, Perry knows, is a desperate attempt to retain some level of professionalism from one of the most idiotic men he has ever known. Still, there is no denying that the Major is an exceptional agent, even if his priorities are suspect at the best of times. He has Perry’s loyalty and trust, but not without a grain or two of salt.
Perry checks his watch, 11:43.
“Now I know it's a bit late in the day to send you over to check in on Doofensmirtz, but the latest report shows that he has been collecting a massive amount of oil based paint, canvas, and wooden frames along with one giant fan style paintbrush. Given his history as a failed artist, we can only assume that this choice of specialized brush is significant.”
Perry resists rolling his eyes. From anyone else, the purchase of a twenty foot paintbrush would be eccentric at worst. But knowing Doofensmirtz, the choice is probably either because the item was on sale, or because it fit a very nice part of his life story that felt important to give visual representation to. Or all three.
Though not very professional, Perry tunes out the rest of Monogram's speech, instead choosing to use his notepad to work out a bit of plot for the novel he is working on. It's nearly impossible to make any progress otherwise, and after years of this routine, the agent is certain whatever information Monogram is providing him, Doofensmirtz will give with better detail.
“-so get out there and stop him, Agent P!”
Perry snaps his notebook shut and offers a crisp salute, no closer to smoothing over his plot problem then knowing what awaits him at DEI. All things considered, the plot issue is the more upsetting of the two things.
His hovercraft is precisely where he left it, parked and ready, though someone (probably Carl) has washed and vacuumed the vehicle. It's a nice gesture, especially after the week he has had. He slides into the orange leather drivers seat and makes for Doofensmirtz Evil Incorporated with all due haste.
In spite of what Doofensmirtz might say, Perry tries to not blow a hole in his wall every time he visits. Usually it's situational. The oddly shaped building that bears an uncanny resemblance to his youngest nephew has shockingly good security beyond whatever it is Heinz has set up. It is, Perry is certain, a very specific kind of person who lives in the same building as an evil scientist, and understandably most have taken their own measures to avoid fire damage. The days when Doctor Doofensmirtz has the top down on the convertible penthouse are the easy ones, infiltration being as simple as park his ride and drop in from above.
As the agent approaches, he can see the shape of some sort of inator taking up most of the building's roofline. So he parks on the balcony and makes his way inside. Up close, he can see that the giant paint brush is aesthetic but also serves as the main body for the day's inator. Paint is everywhere, in a riot of colors that hurt to look at, and entire walls are taken up by a hodgepodge of canvases. All appear to have been hand stretched with no little amount of skill, and Perry files the professional technique away in a mental file just for Heinz Doofenshmirtz.
No sooner has Perry stepped inside the main lab does a life size painting of himself, minus face, wrap around him and hang itself against the wall. It's not the best trap being mostly canvas, but it is snug, and the paintwork is beautifully done. He sighs. The number of things Heinz can do, the love and passions where his skill is clear but that poor luck has denied the scientist, is truly heartbreaking some days.
“Ah, Perry the Platypus. I see you have been framed!”
The dramatic entrances do make it hard to feel sympathetic some days.
Doofensmirtz looks as he usually does, brown hair combed but messy from hours of inventing, blue eyes glinting in the sunlight, and manic grin fixed firmly on his face. In spite of himself, fondness wells inside the agent as Heinz begins his usual monologue. The Agent pays attention, he always does. He didn't in the early days, before he realized just how much talking through his past helped his nemesis. But then one day Perry had actually stopped and listened instead of waiting for Doof to tire himself out.
It was the first change to their nemesis-ship. Because that day, Doof didn't even set off the inator that day. Somewhere along the line that day Perry had escaped the trap and he and Heinz wound up on the couch drinking tea while the scientist sobbed.
Ever since then, Agent P listened.
Today the backstory involves Heinz's art career, before the destruction of his masterpiece. The year of classes, followed by traveling the countryside for inspiration, and then the unlikely but disastrous rockslide set off when a wild warthog stole his fan brush and lodged it under a massive boulder. In Perry's opinion having every rock in the tristate area turned into oil paint is not a good solution to that trauma.
Once Heinz has finished his exposition, Perry breaks out. The usual fighting starts with little fanfare. A kick here, a punch there, improbable use of painting supplies in martial combat. The Agent has just flung the scientist into a tower of paint cans when Doof sits up and waves his hands.
“Woah wait wait, can we call a time out?”
Agent P lowers his fists and looks at the other man incredulously.
“No, I’m serious! I haven't had any food today and I do *not*, I mean NOT, want to deal with a blood sugar crash while fighting you.” The evil scientist props himself up on his elbows. “I mean, have you ever had a blood sugar crash? It's like your brain gets all foggy and your whole body is shaking and aches, and on top of that you have this massive headache. Never mind your mood is all over the place— ohhhh you know what? This gives me a great idea for an inator! The “low blood sugar inator”, and I have a great backstory for it too.”
It's yet another bit of concerning information about Doof's past that Agent P files away to digest later. Truthfully, the agent doesn't always feel right fighting his nemesis. In the early days of their relationship, before the agent would have ever imagined they would wind up with any sort of relationship, he had brushed aside the backstories for any number of reasons. It didn't matter what the man's reasons were, Heinz Doofenshmertz was committing evil acts that needed to be stopped. Even with the new listening
But then one day a few weeks after the Agent had started listening, their usual routine was interrupted by a phone call.
Heinz had gotten a call from his mother, and while it was all in German the tone was unmistakable. From the way the scientist had started so hopefully and the way the ever present slouch had only gotten worse the more the woman's voice kept speaking.
“Aber was ist mit deinem Geburtstag?” Heinz asked, one last flash of hope shining behind his blue eyes.
The woman on the phone scoffed.
“Du Versager. Ich will nur, dass du dich fernhältst.”
Even though he doesn't speak the language, Perry could see the way the words crushed his nemesis. And oh wasn't that a thought, his nemesis. It was the first time that thought had ever crossed the teal haired man's mind, but he couldn't deny the protectiveness that washed through him.
“Oh ... okay. Ähm ... also ... alles Gute zum Geburtstag …”
Heinz ended the call looking decidedly worse for wear, and switched the trap holding the agent off.
Perry went home that day with several things to think over.
So here they are. When Heinz says he has a traumatic history with low blood sugar, The super spy believes it. Be it due to having been abandoned in the wilderness as a child, being stuck under a boulder and having to chew his own arm off, to backpacking alone across Europe, there are many many reasons why Perry believes him.
It's the least he can do to take a break so his nemesis doesn't have to go through more pain. He flashes Doofenshmertz a thumbs up.
“Aww, thank you Perry the Platypus. You really are a stellar guy.”
Perry offers a hand up to the dark haired man, which Heinz takes with aplomb, dusting himself off as he stands. Like this, the height difference between them is pointed. Agent P doesn't usually feel short, even though he knows his height is notably below the average. But like this, face to chest with Heinz who without his slouch stands at an impressive six foot two inches, Perry is intimately aware that he is almost a full foot shorter.
“Do you want anything? I was thinking I could make some schnitzel or Oooo what about bratwurst and sauerkraut? I just went shopping and had a hankering for a taste of the old country.”
Perry taps Doof on the arm and nods, indicating his preference with a small smile. It earns him a large beam in return from the brown haired man.
“Ha! See I knew you liked bratwurst. It is superior in flavor and good hot or cold. Come on, you can help me. Norm is officially not allowed in the kitchen for the rest of the week.”
“I know, it's more usual here in America that lunch is cold. But a proper mittagessen should be warm.”
They work together in the kitchen, side by side, orbiting one another without stepping on any toes. It's easy to work with Heinz, easier than working with Linda most definitely. He loves his sister in law, but she has a masterful command of the kitchen that usually means you will be in her way if you dare step into her domain while dinner is being made. But with the scientist it's…easy, even if they do make enough food for twice their numbers.
Lunch is nice. Heinz talks through most of it, about Vanessa, about Norm, about the gossip at the mail room, about anything and everything that crosses his mind. The mad scientist is as animated in this as he is in everything else, and they have had enough lunches together by now that Perry knows to keep his water glass out of elbow range. He still ends up with a drink spilt on him, but between the paint smirking his face and clothes, a little bit of water is a non issue.
They wash up and pack the leftovers in companionable silence, one of the few times his nemesis has worked the noise from his mind out. Once the last plate has been placed on the drying rack, Perry turns to the taller man.
‘Ready?’ he asks, an eyebrow raised to emphasize the question.
“Yeah sure-”
It doesn’t take too long before the inator explodes.
Heinz sighs, arms pinned behind his back thanks to the painting that Agent P had slammed over him.
“Curse you, Perry the Platypus.”
Perry tips his fedora, giving the evil scientist a quick once over to make sure the man isn't too badly hurt. Aside from what will probably be a spectacular black eye from a wayward elbow and strips of canvas stuck in Heinz’s hair, the blue eyed evil scientist looks more or less alright. Satisfied that Heinz will be okay and with a mission complete, Perry turns towards the door.
“Oh wait, Perry the Platypus. Don't forget the left overs.”
Perry stops, his hand hovering above the handle to the door. He had almost forgotten. With a sheepish smile, the teal haired man quickly b-lines back to the lair kitchen where the simple lunchbox sits exactly where they left it. He grabs the box of leftover brats, then comes back to the door. Doof nods, satisfied.
“Ah good. Well, see you tomorrow Perry the Platypus. Love you.”
Without thinking about it, the agent raises his hand in a familiar gesture, with his palm spread and ring and middle finger curled inward. It's easy, it's automatic, and it's not until he shuts the door behind him does Perry realize just how the conversation ended.
Wide eyes look down at his own hand, still forming the sign for “I love you”.
—
In his lair, arms pinned by a painting he really can't say he remembers buying and surrounded by scrap evidence of yet another failure, Heinz Doofenshmirtz is having several rapid fire crises.
Rapid fire crises are not an uncommon situation, but the cause this time is….ehh…oh who is he kidding? This isn't a new one either. Though it usually has a spectacularly bad outcome.
It's not like Heinz doesn't have eyes. He does! He uses them every day. Mostly every day. Unless he's glued his eyes shut again, or the power is out. All this to say, he is aware Perry the Platypus is a good looking man. It was one of the first things he noticed about the shorter man when the agent had unceremoniously broken his window in and handed over the official O.W.C.A greeting basket along with his business card. Well, no. The first thing Heinz had noticed was the teal. The teal shirt, the teal hair. It was a lot of color to suddenly have in his home. Not that his home was devoid of color, mostly purples and greens, but said colors weren't usually so bright. Occasionally pastel, yes, but not nearly so…summertime.
After that had come the realization that this man, secret agent Perry codename The Platypus, was quite good looking. Not that he can remember the face when he isn't looking, but that doesn't change the objective level of visual appeal that is registered when the scientist is. The agent is short, yes, but built like a brick, with a chiseled jaw and deep brown eyes that gave coffee a run for their money. The following realization had been that he hits hard. All in all, not a terrible way to find out you have a nemesis, and the fruit basket was quite nice too. A nemesis was a huge step! It was a mile marker in the career of any evil scientist, a sign that you were doing a good job at being bad.
It's hard to pinpoint when over the years Heinz had stopped thinking of Perry the Platypus as just a nemesis. At some point, friendship had developed. Probably around when Perry had begrudgingly helped set up for Vanessa's party, but it had been brewing for a long time. But all Heinz knows is that one day he realized he was looking forward to seeing the other man, and not because it meant he was succeeding in one of the few areas of life he had ever found a measure of joy in.
In all fairness, those three words were often a source of pain and misery for one Heinz Doofenshirtz. His mother, his father, most of his crushes, that one cat. Even his ex wife, Charlene. Admittedly they ended on good terms having just grown apart, for which he is glad because it gives Vanessa two homes to be comfortable in. But still, that relationship hadn't lasted either even if he is loath to use it as a backstory itself.
And now here Heinz had to go and ruin the best human to human friendship he ever had. Because he had accidentally said “I love you” to his very attractive best friend slash nemesis.
That would be the first of the simultaneous crises. The second is much easier to understand.
He just told his nemesis he loves him by accident.
It had felt so natural, slipped out without conscious thought. The brunet is aware that his brain to mouth filter isn't great on the best of days, but where did the thought even come from?!?
Sure the man is handsome (see the internal monologue tangent in crisis one), but that's never been enough for Heinz to randomly blurt out “I love you” at someone. And oh yes, it has happened before, and it never ended well. Usually in tears or mortifying embarrassment (his) and either disgust or laughter on the part of the other person. But this time…it hadn't been a blurt or an exclamation. Just something simple and quiet. The way the Doctor would say I love you to his daughter. A foregone conclusion. Real.
But he doesn't love Perry the Platypus. Does he?
Which ties nicely into crisis number three.
He, Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Doctor of Evil Science, has just realized he is in love with his nemesis.
It's the only conclusion he can come to, being a man of science. All the facts are there. The time he has taken to learn how the agent likes his tea. The fact that there is a spare toothbrush for Perry in the bathroom for the days when the man has been sent over far earlier than anyone might be expected to perform their morning ablutions, the odd chattering sound the man sometimes makes. He loves Perry the Platypus.
—
The ride back to his secret lair is longer than it usually is. For one thing, Perry spends a good amount of time parked on a nearby roof replaying the interaction. It's hardly the first time his brain has run on auto pilot and has wound up signing I love you to someone. Usually to one of the kids' many friends, or to a barista at ass o’clock in the morning, a few times to the nice lady at the grocery store. It happens. So then why does this “I love you” feel so…different?
It’s surprising enough that it’s taken this long for a freudian slip to happen with Heinz, but then again maybe not. When they do talk, the evil scientist takes up the lion's share of conversation, and Perry has always been happy to listen. A nod here, a short question there. It takes very little to have a conversation with the taller man who is personable and easygoing. It doesn't hurt that the way Heinz’ eyes sparkle when he really gets going reminds the agent of light playing on the ocean. Or how his listening skills are beyond comparison when he actually employs them, getting so much from Perry when very little has actually been said.
Something in him must have already known, deep down. Love has always been a quiet thing for the teal haired man, slow and steady, which carves deeply into his being over time until it’s so much a part of him that going without it would be worse than death. Because now that he’s looking, Perry’s love for his nemesis is as intrinsic to his being as his love for his kids.
He sighs, shifting the hovercraft into drive once more. He won't help anyone if he sunburns on a rooftop, and he can think this through just as well at home.
The flight itself is short, and after dodging a near miss with a fleet of hovercraft lawn chairs piloted by cubist pigs, Perry lands in his lair with little issue. He gets out, stretches, and rubs his eyes. The contacts need to come out, his face needs a wash, and there are bits of canvas in his hair. But the shower can wait. The agent goes to the in-lair bathroom, and takes care of the paint that's spattered on his face. He goes through nearly all the baby wipes before he's satisfied with the results, and makes a mental note to add more wipes to his needs list.
Across from the bathroom is the changing room, and he pauses only to grab his contacts case before going to the cubicle. He hangs the fedora on the hook by the changing room before stepping inside and devesting himself of his work persona. He slips out of the vest, button up and slacks, depositing them in the hamper for the laundry service O.W.C.A. has hired for their agents. The personalized uniforms are durable, but that doesn't mean they don't get filthy. It takes a little longer to remove the contacts and properly store them. Once that is done he grabs the clothes from that morning which are folded neatly on the changing room shelf, and he slips into them with a contented sigh. Where the auto dresser that gets him into uniform is efficient and quick, Perry takes his time relaxing back into being *just* Perry. He relishes running his fingers through his hair and mussing the teal locks, the feel of the Tiny Cowboys tee is soft against his skin, and the jeans are comfortable. The final touch comes when he slides his glasses back on his nose and the world comes back into focus.
He takes the elevator to the living room, stepping out from beside the fireplace and sits himself down on the couch, once again thinking about his newly realized feelings for his nemesis.
“Oh, there you are Uncle Perry. Are you okay?”
Perry is pulled from his thoughts by Candace who looks distinctly worse for wear. Her skirt is shredded in places and her usual red shirt is stained with what looks like some sort of puree.
‘Are you?’ Perry asks, turning his niece's question back on her.
“I'm fine. Just another thing Mom won't ever believe me about.” Candace ghosts past the bitterness as if discussing the weather. “And anyway, I asked you first. You've got this look on your face.”
Perry frowns, not thrilled by the attitude his niece has adopted regarding what, he is steadily realizing, sounds a lot like one of Heinz backstories. Seeing his frown, the red head sighs.
“Please, Uncle Perry? I really don't want to talk about it. I could use a distraction.”
Weak as he is to his kids, especially when they make a genuine request, the older man can only sigh and nod in acquiescence. The megawatt smile he gets in thanks warms his heart, even as his niece throws herself down on the couch and prepares to unknowingly dig into her Uncle's love life.
“Soooo, what's eating you?”
He knows he is going to regret this, but he did promise. Rude though it is when signing, he keeps his head down and turns a little away from his niece so that his expression is unreadable, unwilling to subject himself to the full force of unholy glee and other emotions Candace is no doubt about to experience.
‘I…might be having a love crisis.’
Candace’s reaction is immediate and earsplitting, tapping into her own brand of the reality warping powers the children of the family seem to possess.
“OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH WHAT?!?! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
The teen jumps from her seat, hands flapping so hard Perry is wondering if she might spontaneously develop human flight, even as a window across the street cracks.
“For how long? I didn't know you've been seeing someone. Is he cute or wait. You have the bi pride flag in your room so is it a guy or a girl? Are THEY cute? Do you know their name? How did you two meet? Have you gone on any dates yet?”
Perry risks a look and his niece is incandescent with her glee and it almost makes it worth it to be the subject of such attention. Almost. Love her he does, but Perry knows high ranking assassins who don't have half the focus or intensity of Candace Flynn, and it is never not unsettling to be pinned under that kind of attention. It doesn't help that now he's blushing.
‘Candace’ he signs, trying his best to calm the excited girl down. ‘I can explain but I need you to sit down.’
Candace obeys immediately, all attention and poise with some maniacal giggling.
Perry takes a deep breath, fingers fumbling for a moment as he tries to figure out how to put his thoughts into words in such a way that things won't seem suspicious.
‘I’ve known him for nearly seven years now, and we haven't always been on the best of terms. We've become good friends though. He's…an inventor, you could say, and he's helped me with a few of my books.’
“Is he where you go when you vanish mid day?”
Again, Perry regrets answering this question even before his fingers nod an affirmative, but he cuts off yet another glass shattering squeal before his niece can start.
‘Yes, but not all the time. I do go to the gym and my publishers. Coffee shops. But sometimes I visit him.’
“And you haven't asked him out yet?”
‘It’s complicated, sweetie. There are things that make it hard to ask him. We work together in a certain way, he's got a terrible visual memory. If I ask him out and I dress differently from normal, he wouldn't be able to recognize me. I don't even know if he wants to see me again after I-’
“After you what?” Candace asks, all enthusiasm and curiosity and manic energy. “Uncle Perry what did you do?”
Perry grimaces, fiddling with the hem on his Tiny Cowboys shirt.
‘I…may have told him I love him. Accidentally. As I was leaving his place.’
“YOU DID WHAT!”
…he should have expected that response. The teal haired man waves his hands frantically to quiet his niece.
‘I didn't mean to! But it felt so much like leaving the house for a day, saying goodbye to one of you. It just happened.’ Perry hangs his head, a soft chittering slipping past his lips. ‘I may have ruined my chances before I even tried.’
Candace takes this information in stride, much more quiet than Perry expects considering the way his niece chops at the bit for most things. She reaches out and paces a comforting hand on her uncle's arm.
“Uncle Perry, answer me this. Is he your friend?”
‘Yes. My best friend.’
“Then I think you are overthinking things.”
Perry lifts an incredulous brow at this statement, and Candace scoffs.
“Yeah yeah, I know. I'm one to talk but seriously. Ask him on a date. At worst he will say no and things will be a little awkward. But things are already awkward, and friendships in general *are* awkward. I mean, look at me and Stacy. We fought over boys, she glued a hamster to my head once, I made us miss our spa reservation. It's not always easy, but the awkward times and getting through our disagreements are always worth it. Those times are so much better than the time we spend being mad at each other and doing nothing about it. If you two are really as good of friends as you say, some awkwardness won't ruin that.”
The teal haired man lets himself think about that for a second before smiling.
‘When did you get so smart?’
“Hey, I know things!”
Perry manages to give the girl an affectionate noogy before she slips away, likely to tell the rest of the house the latest gossip, leaving Perry to look down at his hands.
The more he thinks about it, the more Candace’s advice seems sound in theory. If Heinz weren't also his nemesis he would follow it in a heart beat. Then again, if Heinz wasn't his nemesis, Perry would have asked the man out by now, evil or not. But it's not that simple in practice, and O.W.C.A will no doubt have issues with an agent having a romantic relationship with a villain. There's probably something in the hand book against it. And even if there isn't, there is the MASSIVE breach in security that comes from mixing his personal and professional life together. And any other outcome doesn't have the same appeal.
Because the more he thinks about it, the more Perry wants to do it right. Have Heinz meet the kids, Linda and Lawrence; Welcome Heinz into the stable loving home the man never had, the home he deserves; Enjoy family Christmas and visit Mum and Dad Fletcher once a year, both of whom, Perry is certain, would adore the madcap inventor.
He wants it, and the only way it would work is if O.W.C.A. was on board or not in the picture entirely. Or, he concedes, under the impression something else was going on.
That night, sitting at the dining table, Perry fields all the expected questions from the family about his relationship with his friend. All the while, he plans.
—
Peregrine Fletcher has always been a practical man, the kind that took Occam's Razor to heart and never looked back. So it came as a huge relief to dig through the OWCA bylaws and find that there IS a procedure for reassessing the threat level of a villain, as well as expanding the narrow list of who can have information on his civilian life.
And really, Perry shouldn't be surprised that protocol for introducing your family to a nemesis exists in the first place. It may have taken two weeks to brute force through all the needed hoops, but as long as Heinz agreed to the terms, Perry was provisionally set.
—
It's been two weeks and no Perry the Platypus. At first OWCA had sent substitutes, but after enough complaining Heinz had gotten them to agree to a temporary cease fire. Heinz is of course distraught because clearly Perry is avoiding him. He should have known this would happen. Nothing ever good comes from him telling someone he loves them, with the exception of Vanessa who is undoubtedly the best thing that could have happened. And really does he lump Charlene in with the rest because it didn't end badly it just ended, on amicable terms at that.
But without Perry coming over, Heinz has been at a standstill. Not inventing, not really up for evil, just sort of floating along in a sea of gloom. Because clearly Perry is going to want a new nemesis.
He doesn't even have the energy to yell at the door when someone rings the bell. So it is something of a shock, a relief, and a heartbreak when he opens the door to find Perry The Platypus standing on his stoop.
“Oh, Perry the Platypus! I wasn't expecting company. You're…you're probably here to give me the news in person, aren't you?”
It makes sense. The secret agent has always been a consummate professional, why wouldn't a man who made sure to introduce himself come in person to inform his nemesis of being switched to a new villain.
The evil scientist looks down, already feeling tears building at the corner of his eyes.
“Look, I appreciate you wanting to…to do this in person but I don't need that. I am doing just fine on my own. And I know I made it weird so I do not blame you for wanting a new nemesis. It's what happens when I say those things. Whenever I open my mouth, so really I’m used to it by now and I am sorry that I said what I said I really didn't mean to tell you. It just slipped out and—”
—
It's with mounting horror that Perry realizes just what his evil scientist is babbling about, even as another apology spills past chapped lips. Brown eyes go wide and the secret agent pushes past the door to grab the ever moving hands of his favorite person. It's not the first time the two have held hands, but today Perry is hyper aware of the details. The well worn calluses, the rough nail beds, the way the inventor's longer fingers grip his own in an equally desperate hold. On the upside, it has the desired effect of getting Doofensmirtz to stop talking. On the downside, Perry will have to let go at some point to converse with the man.
Rather than do either, Perry steps in close and presses Doofensmirtz’s hands to his chest, resting his head just above the inventor's heart. This close, he can hear how hard the older man's heart is pumping, the tachycardic staccato of a frantic bird beating its wings against a cage. Beneath his ear, a sob works its way up Doofensmirtz chest as two titanium arms encircle the agent in a desperate hold that even now is careful not to crush.
Perry leans into the embrace. It's hardly the first time but it's the first time like this, where it's personal and not out of sheer terror. He lets Heinz cry. There are a lot of hard, painful emotions that the agent knows the taller man struggles with processing. Loss is an uncomfortably familiar friend to the man, and it breaks Perry's heart to think that he has given this incredible man any reason to think he would leave him behind.
Perry gently leads the other man to the couch for both of their comfort. Once they are sitting, Perry adjusts his hold so that instead of Doof holding him, he is holding the scientist. Like this, Heinz curls up properly and cries until there's simply no energy left. It takes nearly a half hour, but Heinz does tire himself out, tears and breathing slowing until he is just a dead weight and sound asleep.
It's hard to bring himself to ease Doofensmirtz onto the couch properly. But now that he has the chance to look around, the apartment looks terrible. Clothes are strewn around, and there is a suspicious smell coming from the fridge. Looking at Heinz now Perry can see the darker than normal eye bags, the dirty clothes, the exhaustion. These two weeks were harder on him than Perry thought they would be, but he really should have known. Guilt simmers in the agent's stomach, replaying every story he knows about Doofensmirtz 'past. But he had been so concerned with his own plan, that he didn't stop to think how their accidental exchange followed by radio silence would seem. That maybe…just maybe…the brown haired scientist had meant it too.
It takes some doing to find a clean blanket, but eventually the teal haired man does. Once he is sure that Heinz is comfortable, he turns his attention to the room. The place isn't that bad in all honesty, not by the standards of someone who lives with five other people. But for the scientists, the clutter and mess is unusual, and it probably hasn't made any of the things Heinz has been going through any easier.
Perry takes a moment to remove his jacket, fedora and vest, hanging them up on a hook by the door. That done, the agent starts collecting the strewn clothes. The motions are soothing and familiar, years of living with the Flynn-Fletchers making the chore almost automatic. It helps ease some of the growing guilt, knowing he is doing something to clean up the fallout he didn't mean to cause. After dropping the dirty clothes down the laundry shute, he moves on the dirty takeout. By the time Heinz starts to stir, Perry has cleaned the living room and the kitchen.
Heinz wakes slowly, then all at once.
"Um...hello stranger." Heinz looks around taking on his now clean apartment. "Look, it's not that I am not grateful. My dishes were piling up, but I really don't think now is a good time to have strangers over. I was in the middle of something and I…I would rather be alone if it's all the same to you and—”
As always, it's like a switch has been flipped as soon as the fedora touches his head and Heinz can use the type of clothing and general color scheme to get around his prosopagnosia and identify his nemesis. The scientist's eyes go wide and he takes a few steps back, hands wringing as if that can alleviate the stress.
“Oh…Perry the Platypus. What are you… doing?”
It takes every ounce of courage Perry has to not run away.
‘You were upset. I thought I'd clean while you slept. I didn't come to tell you that I’m leaving.’
“As a goodbye gift, right? It's…wait…you aren't? But I thought-”
Under normal circumstances, Perry would be fine to let Heinz speak. But it's hardly normal circumstances. The odds of Heinz talking himself into the wrong conclusion so badly he breaks down again are high, and the teal agent needs for his friend to listen to him right now.
‘I know what you thought and I am…I am so sorry. I should have messaged you.’ With every word, that gnawing guilt makes a resurgence. His usually steady hands have adopted a slight tremble that he can't shake and it leads a waver to his words. It's the most he's ever signed to Heinz at one time, and it's never mattered more.
‘I’m not being reassigned. It took a lot of doing but I…I have a surprise for you.’
Perry has to run back to his jacket, where he pulls out a packet of papers. The stack is thick, far thicker than Agent P had hoped to find when he first started looking. He brings the file back to Heinz and with trembling hands, holds them out.
The scientist takes the packet, pausing for a moment to pull out his half moon reading glasses and begins to scan the document.
Heinz frowns, voice indignant.
“Your big surprise is that I am now a lower threat! Yeesh, some gift. This is like a slap in the face you know.”
The agent rolls his eyes.
‘Keep reading.’
“ “Keep reading," he says. This is the longest conversation we have ever had and you want me to keep reading.”
For all his grumbling, Doofensmirtz does as instructed, and Perry knows the moment he reaches the all important section, sees the realization click in those blue eyes. Wonder is a beautiful look on Heinz Doofenshmirtz, the way it takes years off his face and makes him stand just a little bit straighter.
“Is this real? You…you really did this for me?”
Perry nods, a tentative smile starting to cross his face.
“But I thought you hated me after I said- After I expressed that- Hmmmm the ah…hah, well you know. Or would be at the very least disgusted.”
The blush spreading across the scientist's face adds hope to the gnawing guilt and matches one he can feel building on his own face, and it's a small miracle that Perry isn't more nauseous than he is.
‘I am not disgusted by you.’
“You aren't?”
Hope adds to the wonder, pushing emotion high into the shorter man's throat. Even if he was able to bring himself to speak, he probably couldn't right now if he wanted to. Not for this pulsing, warm and twisting lump of emotions. Instead Perry shakes his head and steps closer.
It's easy, so easy now that he knows what he's feeling to catch his heart speeding when he looks up at Heinz. It's a crime that so many people have told this man he is not attractive, because they are wrong. They see the slouch, or the crooked nose, or the perpetually messy hair and miss what is right in front of them. They miss the wide blue eyes that hold such sincerity and warmth in spite of a horrific past. They miss the thin lips, always ready with a quip or comeback and incredibly expressive. They miss the laugh lines and that jawline and the flash of something a little feline in the set of narrow shoulders. It's not a conventional beauty, but it is stunning in its own right. So it's easy to shake his head, pinch his fingers no, and smile up at this man.
‘I got O.W.C.A to lower your threat level because I want you to meet my family. I am so sorry, Heinz. I never meant to make you think I was leaving. But there was so much paperwork and I may have made an intern cry-’
“You made an intern cry for me?”
Twice, actually. But Heinz probably doesn't need to know that. He really owes Carl an apology, but the sheer amount of paperwork to go through was astounding.
‘Focus.’
“Right, right. But…” The scientist looks down at the papers once more, tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. “Why would you do this for me?”
Perry chitters, expression soft. It's easy to reach up, guiding Heinz’s face until the man is looking at him.
‘Because I did some thinking. I know so much about you and you don't know anything about me.’ A slight heat rises to his cheeks, embarrassment running high and making the agent's heart pound furiously. ‘And I trust you with my life. All parts of it. I love you.’
It beasts through Perry's veins like liquid iron, swirling and intense but brilliant and molten and overwhelming, a mantra he can't ignore now that he has recognized it. I love you, I love you, I love you.
The papers flutter out of Heinz's grip, his eyes wide and mouth open in shock.
“No but…I'm me, and you're you. You shouldnt-”
Perhaps that was true once, but it's not now. There is very little Perry wouldn't do for the people he loves, and the paperwork on the floor is the least of those endeavors he has undertaken in their cause. The shorter man shakes his head, pressing the sign for I love you to Doofensmirtz's chest, pouring every ounce of hope and love and desperation he has into it. The intensity of it forces the scientist to step back, but Perry doesn't relent, as if he can will the taller man to take this good thing at face value. No strings attached. No hidden downside.
He's surprised but not unhappy when arms wrap around him and lips press against his in pure euphoric impulsivity. If it's easy to know his emotions for what they are, then it's like breathing to rise on his toes, tilt his head and slot their lips together properly to deepen the kiss with Heinz. Perry doesn't let Heinz pull away when clarity strikes the other man, instead twining his fingers into brown locks and holding him fast. They stay like this for a few more moments, thin chapped lips against supple full ones, twined around each other before the need for oxygen makes itself known.
Perry let's go reluctantly, heels dropping back to the floor, but the view he has makes up for needing to part. Heinz’s eyes are closed, face slack in the most peaceful expression Perry has ever seen. The agent watches as Heinz’s soul renters his body, his brain coming back online, blue eyes blinking open slowly and gazing down with wonder.
“...Oh. Does this mean I can get to know you without the hat?”
It's such a Heinz reaction and it makes Perry grin and nod.
‘Yes. You’ll probably need to just focus on my hair, and the glasses. You have to agree to not use my civilian life in any of your schemes but…yes.’ Just like that, Perry’s confidence fails him and he can't make eye contact with Heinz. ‘If…if you want to.’
The seconds tick by, and with each passing moment Perry can feel his heart plummeting further and further in his chest. Then Heinz moves faster than the agent has ever seen, practically a blur as he bends, grabs the papers and flies to the nearest table to sign them.
“I can do that. I can. I wouldn't use your family against you anyway, I mean yeesh. Talk about a cliche. I'm evil, but I have standards. Anyhow, we are missing the real important thing. You wear glasses?” Doof asks, taking Perry by the hand and dragging him over to the couch.
Perry's laugh escapes him entirely against his will, but he nods.
‘Contacts when on the job. Glasses are too easy to break, but I'm nearly blind without them.’
Bits of information click in Heinz’s head, expression shifting to one of regret and understanding.
“So that time when you were burning through that net with the tiny magnifying glass. Twice?”
The agent nods.
‘You destroyed both my contacts that day. I'm amazed I didn't walk into a wall.’
“I bet you look cute in them.” The scientist teases, making Perry’s blush return with a vengeance.
‘Not really. I look like a dork.’ Which is part of the point he must admit, but he has never been particularly fond of the way his glasses take up such a prominent aspect of his face.
“Do you have a picture?”
Even though he knows he does, Perry hesitates. Heinz notices and begins to backpedal, hands in full force as he punctuates his sentences with a flourish here or a jab there.
“Or is it too soon? Yeah it's probably too soon for me to ask to see you in your glasses. Even though we just kissed…oh man are we doing this relationship backwards.”
The ramble is soothing and for someone deemed fearless, Perry finds that the sound of Doof's voice calms the last little bits of fear in him. The agent pulls out his phone, his personal one and flips through the hundreds of pictures until he finds the one he is looking for. It's not an especially fancy picture, just of him and Lawrence in front of the Rutherford B Hayes statue taken some time at the start of summer, but it's one he likes best. He's dressed down, hair brushed but not tamed in the OWCA standard slicked back style, brown eyes shining with mirth at some joke Linda had made. In the Love Handle shirt and cargo shorts, he's a far cry from what Heinz knows him as. Especially with Lawrence handing off his shoulders, nearly doubled over with his own laughter. He passes the phone over to Heinz so he can better use his hands.
‘This is me and my brother.’
“Oh wow really?” Heinz holds the phone up so he can compare the agent with the photo side by side. “You look, I'm guessing the one on the left is you because you said teal hair and glasses, you look different. Are you sure that's you?”
‘Yes.’
Heinz squints.
“You know I can kind of see it. Sort of. You look happy. It's, yeah, it's a good look on you. I mean you look like an accountant, but you have a nice smile.”
‘Novelist actually.’
A thrill goes through Perry at being able to talk about his civilian life with the one person who knows him better than any other. More than once the agent has caught himself drafting a new chapter and wondering what Heinz would think of the story, or how he would feel knowing Perry has used some of the more plausible improbable situations Heinz has mentioned.
“You’re a novelist?!? How come I didn't know this?”
Perry gives Heinz a flat look until the realization hits the scientist.
“Oh right,” Heinz says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cover story, blah blah, wasn't given the clearance, yadda yadda. Well, have you written anything I might have read?”
Knowing that Heinz's taste in soap operas and telanovelas are almost the exact same as his own, the odds that he has are high. Though Perry isn't a best seller, his series about a college rower who after being stranded on the way to a competition gets pulled into a world of mad science and super spies with a subplot of romance has a fairly strong, if small, following.
‘Maybe? Have you read the-’
A beeping sound from his watch cuts off the sentence. He signs a quick apology.
“It’s alright Perry the Platypus. The job calls, I get it.”
Perry takes his phone back from Heinz with a grateful smile.
He stands up to go, but stops. There's one last thing he needs to do.
He reaches up and pulls Heinz down for one last kiss. It's shorter than the others, but no less wonderful, especially with how his scientist melts into the touch. When they pull apart, Heinz has a smile creeping across his face that mirrors the one Perry knows he is sporting.
‘I’ll text you?’
“Yeah, yes. I would like that.”
When the door shuts behind him, Perry takes a few more moments to bask in the warmth flooding him before schooling his expression and answering his watch.
—
By the time Perry gets home, he is sore, tired, and has cheese in places cheese should never be. But Agent F is safe and getting medical attention, so that's what counts. It's not often an agent is injured badly enough that they not only need rescue but cannot complete their mission, but in Perry's experience when it does happen, someone usually ends up covered in something they would rather not be. But not even an un planned and unwanted turn as a human fondue can sour his mood.
“Hi Uncle Perry! How are- is that cheese in your hair?”
Candace, ever able to sniff out gossip, practically corners him as soon as Perry is through the door.
‘Yes, yes it is.’
Candace blinks once then shakes her head.
“You know what, I don't want to know. What I DO want to know is if you asked your friend out yet.”
It's the same question she's been asking every time she has seen him for the past two weeks.
‘I did, and we have a date planned.’
It's a small lie, but he's planning to ask Heinz out as soon as possible anyhow. In the long run, it probably won't matter and in the meantime it will make his niece happy.
“YES! I knew it. When is it? Where are you going? Do you know what you're going to wear yet?”
He lets his niece ramble questions at him on his way upstairs, his own joy mirroring her enthusiasm. It's only when he gets to his room does he cut his niece off.
‘Candace. We don't have anything set yet. I'm going to text him tonight, but first I need to get this cheese off me.’ Before Candace can protest, he grabs the teen up in a hug that makes her shriek something about the cheese smell. He pulls back grinning. ‘Thank you, for your encouragement.’
“Ugh Uncle Perry now I smell like cheese too!”
Perry chuckles as Candace scrambles off, in too much of a hurry to change from her now fromage smelling clothes to offer an “your welcome”.
Once free of his niece, Perry heads directly to his room. Not for the first time, he is glad to have his own attached bathroom. It allows him to take the fastest shower of his life and change into clothes that don't have cheese embedded in the fibers.
Clean clothes are one of the best feelings on earth at this moment, especially when able to curl in bed. It's been an entirely too long day, but it's had its perks. Pulling his phone out, Perry shoots off a quick text before a blissful sleep claims him.
P# [ ]”>: Got any ideas for our first date?