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Legally, he’s an ocelot. If Perry keeps reminding himself, maybe this won’t feel so bizarre. Legally, Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz is an ocelot. An animal.
The fact that it’s a technicality does not help in the slightest. Legally, Heinz is more animal than human, but for all that the man is pure ID and instincts – truly, deeply idiotic if occasionally thoughtful and inexplicably adorable instincts – he is still a man. Perry doesn’t judge. He knows that sentients can have perfectly healthy, well-adjusted relationships, even when they’re different species. He just never thought he’d be considering one, that’s all.
It’s right there in his theme song. He’s a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal of action. Action, not romance. And if he was a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal of romance, he figured it’d be with another sentient platypus – assuming he could find one, since Danville didn’t have an abundance of the animal – or, barring that, some workplace romance with another O.W.C.A agent. An animal, not a human. Perry spends a lot of his time pretending to be a non-sentient pet. He loves his human family, but the idea of a romantic relationship with someone like them feels strange. Humans on the whole are bad at recognizing sentients even when they’re properly anthropomorphized and not hiding their abilities for espionage. Even Heinz can’t always identify him without the fedora, although based on trial and error, Perry suspects that has more to do with the scientist being hopelessly face-blind than anything else. He doesn’t take it personally.
One great thing about people dressing pretty much the same every day: it makes it much easier for Heinz to navigate the world. Perry will pretend he does not spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about his nemesis in this way.
At first, it was truly baffling why he was assigned to Heinz in the first place. It’s not egotism to say that he’s O.W.C.A.s best agent, or at the very least their best agent in the Tri-State Area. And that’s saying something, because Danville has a truly astonishing number of both non-human sentients and secret agents. There are even time agencies and intergalactic relations agencies in the area – in short, there’s a lot of weird stuff in Danville, and a lot of sentients, human and animal, there to combat it. To put it unkindly (not that Perry would say this now, and never aloud to begin with), Heinz is a technically proficient, low-rate nuisance with a ludicrously high ranking in O.W.C.A.s system. He foils his own schemes as often as Perry does, and barring the occasional attempt at disintegrating people, most of the plans aren’t all that evil to begin with. A lot of them are crimes, technically, but stealing lawn gnomes because of personal trauma does not a villain make – well, it does, but only in the sense that he is breaking the law. He’s not evil. He’s annoying. And these days, barely that.
Anyone could be assigned to Heinz. Perry has video footage of a non-sentient houseplant filling in for him. It’s a waste of a top agent, and in the early days he had all but said so. Major Monogram spoke just enough Platypus to get the gist, but Perry hadn’t been reassigned. It was the agency’s opinion that true evil could be foiled by a well-trained agent, but idiocy took only the best.
Well, he was the best, even if Heinz wasn’t the worst. He’s still the best. And Heinz…
Perry likes him. Likes him a lot, actually. Probably even loves him, if he’s being fully honest with himself, but he’s never worn his heart on his sleeve the way Heinz does (almost literally, actually – so-called bum-bum-inator aside, that “evil” tattoo would be enough to make Perry laugh if it wasn’t so clear how earnest Heinz is about everything). It’s inconvenient and messy and unprofessional. Heinz is his nemesis, and Perry is pretty sure Pinky doesn’t keep pictures of Professor Poofenplotz in his wallet. But there Heinz is in Perry’s, right alongside the pictures of the Flynn-Fletchers. Because Perry likes this absolute moron, who has the technical skills to destroy the world and absolutely no interest or capacity to follow through effectively. He is endeared, even, by that specific fact. It’s charming that Heinz knows how to build giant lasers and weapons of mass destruction, and chooses to point them at minor annoyances. Not to mention his brother, and frankly, the more Perry hears of Heinz’s backstory, the more it baffles him that Heinz is truly, genuinely, not a terrible person. There are villains who level cities for less. The man who was emotionally abused and abandoned to be raised by wildcats just wants morning talk show hosts to disappear.
And to take over the Tri-State Area, but again, it’s not world domination, and Perry is 100% confident it is directly related to Roger Doofenshmirtz, his parents, and the abysmal lack of control Heinz has always had over his own life. So not good. But understandable. And easy enough to distract him from with picnics and checkers.
He tries not to think of Heinz as a victim. He’s definitely got the attitude of a survivor, for one thing, and it’s unclear how conscious he is about the way his various traumas affect him. As far as Perry can tell, other than routine, understandable bouts of anxiety, Heinz is remarkably good at coping. Still. It’s a hell of a lot of trauma. Considering that Perry has a family that loves and supports him – without even knowing that he’s sentient enough to consciously appreciate it – he has difficulty fathoming what Heinz has gone through.
It doesn’t make it harder to fight him, per se, but Perry would be lying if he said he wasn’t more acutely aware of his actions now, and how they might affect Heinz both physically and emotionally, than he was when he was first assigned this nemesis.
His wristwatch beeps, and it’s so rote to find the nearest secret entrance, he could do it in his sleep. He’s not even particularly stealthy about it today: the boys and Candace are at school, and Linda and Lawrence are at work. It takes a matter of moments to don his hat and drop into his lair, less than thirty seconds to be briefed – “stop Doofenshmirtz” is really all the assignment he’s given, but Perry is used to it by now – and he’s hang-gliding off to D.E.I. barely a minute after he got the summons in the first place. It would be more efficient to cut the briefing altogether, but Perry is too professional to suggest it. One of these days, it might actually be important.
He's braced for the fight before he’s even halfway across town – because he knows there’s going to be a fight, there’s almost always a fight, typically somewhere between him escaping his trap and blowing up Heinz’s latest scheme. Fighting feels stranger now than it did in the summer or even earlier in the fall. There’s no good reason for it: humans don’t have a standard mating season, and frankly, it’s not like non-human sentient species follow the patterns of their non-sentient cousins. If Perry were a traditional, non-sentient platypus…well, he probably wouldn’t live in Danville, for a start. He’d live in Australia, and depending on where, specifically, breeding season could be any time from late fall to early spring. He’d actually sat down with an atlas at one point to try to work it out. In Australia, it spanned essentially June to October, but the seasons are different here, a hemisphere away. The point being – and he knows he’s overthinking this – that even though the literal months have passed, seasonally, they’re coming up on that point, even if the seasons look a little different.
There’s absolutely no reason to have put this much thought into it. They’re coming up on peak mating season for regional ocelot populations too – he’d already had the atlas out, sue him – and it’s not like Heinz has brought that up. Their relationship is strictly platonic, they’re vastly different species, and both of them are evolved beyond being driven by uncontrollable biological urges. It’s not going to come up.
He's worried about it anyway. Heinz knows at least something about platypuses, and he’s acutely aware of animal customs in general, so it’s not a stretch to think that even his often-oblivious nemesis might put together that fighting is in fact a major part of platypus courtship. Perry might be asexual, but he’s not aromantic, and Heinz doesn’t even know that, anyway. They communicate, sure, but there’s never been a good time to bring it up. Perry’s a private person, but even when he’d started to open up, to tell Heinz more about himself, it hadn’t seemed like the kind of thing to slip casually into conversation. What if Heinz got the wrong idea?
Or, more accurately, what if he got the right idea, and it ruined everything? Perry is a professional; he could lose his job and one of his few friendships all in one swing. He’s not prepared to let that happen.
Seasonal or not, he’s still been dreaming about biting Heinz’s lab coat and punching him in the face a lot more than he used to, and not just in relation to his job. He might be sentient, but he’s still an animal. When Heinz had used the briefcase trap a few weeks back, all Perry had been able to do was bite, unable to use his paws or tail, and even that much he had overanalyzed for hours afterwards, wondering if Heinz was going to confront him later about what it meant.
He hadn’t. They’d gone bowling later that week and the closest Heinz had come to saying anything was needling Perry about the teeth marks he’d left from the strength of the bite, and how lucky Perry was that it was the leg, because if he’d bit Heinz’s hand that hard, the titanium would have cracked a tooth. Which is another reason Perry is genuinely in awe of his nemesis: Heinz is a double amputee who built his own prosthetics. That’s amazing.
If there’s a self-destruct button on them – like there is on pretty much everything Heinz builds, because Heinz seems to have a mild neurosis about that – Perry hopes no one ever finds out. He’d never consider using it against Heinz, but he knows there are people who would. Rodney comes instantly to mind. Now there’s a genuinely cruel man, which just proves how loveable Heinz is in comparison.
The thought catches Perry off-guard enough – not because he never thinks the L word about Heinz, but because he’s usually better at repressing it – that he slams headfirst into the side of Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated, interrupting the jingle. It’s not as bad as it could be: the building does not obey the laws of the natural world, so instead of flattening against it, Perry just plows directly through the wall, leaving a platypus-shaped hole behind. Heinz must have building contractors on speed-dial, because Perry knows the hole will be gone by the time he returns tomorrow.
In the meantime, he tumbles onto the floor of the lab, throwing off the hang-glider to land in a faux-fighting stance. He must have missed his mark, because no trap springs up to meet him, and he looks around. Save for the light from the hole he made, the room is dark, and Perry has to squint to make out even the outline of shapes. He calls out, chittering in confusion and frowning when he gets no reply. Heinz is incapable of staying silent this long, and something uncomfortable twists into Perry’s gut.
He takes a few cautious steps, feeling around with his webbed hind feet. No trip wires or trapdoors. Nothing spring-loaded, no pressure plates. He keeps his hands up, defensive but unsure, and chirps out for Heinz again. The scientist usually sends at least an email if he’s going out of town or taking a day off. Their routine is important to them both. He wouldn’t just abandon it.
The lights flick on abruptly, and Perry lurches back, blinking, even as Heinz scrambles across the room. “Perry the Platypus, I am so sorry. Just a moment, hold on.” He’s still in his pajamas – the purple ones, not the green one-piece with the flap in the back or the off-white gown with the nightcap – and his matching plush slippers clap across the floor as he skitters around. “Stay right there, I just need to find…ah-ha!”
His fingers close around a handheld inator on a nearby shelf, blasting Perry with it. Filled with relief – Heinz is fine, nothing is wrong – Perry times his leap just a second too slow, and with a flash of green light finds himself trussed up in a series of neckties. He hits the floor with a thud that rattles through his bill, squirming against the bonds as Heinz laughs. “Oh, I so did not think that would work! I invented it because I’m garbage at tying ties, but I was having a bit of trouble with the knotting mechanism…you know, this is a good look for you, Perry the Platypus. I like the orange polka-dots, it’s very you.”
Flat on his stomach, Perry can’t get an angle to see which of the many ties has orange polka-dots. It is not his most pressing concern.
Heinz keeps moving, calling over his shoulder as he rummages around. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready today. I know, I’m usually more professional than this. I was up late last night watching the season finale of El Matador de Amor, and then I was on the message boards because they’re totally jumping the shark…anyway, I forgot to set my alarm clock, and here we are. At least you’re trapped, so we’re not too far off schedule. I hope I didn’t worry you.”
The part of Perry that isn’t wrapped up in his job (literally, at the moment) warms at the concern. He chitters a joke, and Heinz throws a glare over his shoulder. “No, I have a plan! A totally valid, foolproof, evil plan.”
Perry raises an eyebrow, and Heinz’s glare intensifies. “I do. Sheesh, a guy wakes up late one time and gets judged by a platypus. Like you’ve never had an off day, Perry the Perfect-pus.”
Professionalism and the irritation of a necktie trap just manage to keep Perry from flushing. Heinz is being sarcastic, sure, but Perry isn’t immune to being called perfect by his nemesis. Heinz throws compliments at Perry like punches: simultaneously instinctive and meaningful, part of the elaborate dance of their relationship. He snarks back in Platypus and Heinz snorts, “Yeah, yeah, O.W.C.A.s best agent. You know, you don’t need to rub it in.” There’s annoyance in his voice, but Perry can read Heinz as well as Heinz reads Perry, and it’s not true hurt, just the same brand of annoyance Perry feels right now as he squirms against the knots of his trap.
A series of loud metallic clangs ring out, followed by assorted thuds, clatters, and a very out-of-place cat yowl before Heinz stops rummaging around out of Perry’s eyeline and steps back into it, hauling a contraption that is undeniably an inator – not just because pretty much everything Heinz makes is an inator, but because this one has all the classic riveting, vague curves, levers, those weird rings that he seems to be fond of and, of course, a glaringly obvious red self-destruct button. “Behold!” he crows, sweeping his hands like a game show host. “The does-exactly-what-you-think-it-does-inator!”
Perry blinks. The silence is…long.
Heinz droops. “Okay, listen. We’ve already established you’re not catching me on my best day. I really didn’t have anything prepared, and I’ve had this lying around for ages. Cut me some slack, alright?” He rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I, uh, don’t actually remember what it does. But I made it, so it’s gotta be evil, right?” Another heartbeat, another raised eyebrow from Perry, and another groan from Heinz. “Work with me, Perry the Platypus, I’m really trying here.”
Perry schools himself into contrition, and Heinz nods. “Thank you.” He twirls the cord in his hand and grins. “Alright, let’s plug this baby in and see what it can do!”
Desperately, Perry kicks, trying to get himself back to his feet. Without his front paws, he has no leverage – not to mention no anthropomorphically opposable thumbs – so he mostly succeeds in rolling himself, praying the rocking motion will get him upright. The inator whirs as Heinz plugs it in and it charges up. He laughs, wheeling the mechanism with a slight screech to point at Perry. “Why don’t we test it out on you, Perry the Platypus? Tremble in fear at the awesome might of evil!”
It's not quite fear that lances through Perry. Heinz is a dumb genius, sure, but Perry is usually prepared, so shy of being vaporized entirely, whatever happens to him from the ray is probably reversible. Still, he braces himself as the tip of the inator glows and then flashes, zapping him with a bolt of energy.
The neckties unravel, collapsing to the ground in a heap. “Huh,” Heinz says. “I guess it was an untie-inator or something. Talk about a speedy resolu-“
Perry punches him in the face. It feels so, so good. He tackles Heinz and does it again, the scientist throwing his titanium arms up to shield himself from the blows, grunting as he tries to fling Perry off him. They collapse to the ground in a flailing mess of limbs, a comical wrestling match of man and platypus. Heinz scratches at him like an ocelot, his fingers ranking through Perry’s fur to the skin beneath, and Perry growls and gives in to the desire to bite, sinking his toothy bill into Heinz’s shoulder. He can dissemble about it later. This is what they do, him and his nemesis. This is what they do, and it feels so incredibly right.
He has his fist wound up to sock Heinz again when Heinz ducks back, hands forming a referee T. “Time out, time out.” Perry pauses, and hears what Heinz must have already: the phone ringing. He sits back on his haunches, and lets Heinz fish the device out of his pocket. His nemesis pulls a face, and then answers the call. “Hello? Charlene? Yes, I know Vanessa brought Norm to school today. She wanted to show him to one of her science teachers. She had permission.” He makes another exaggerated face, clearly directed for Perry’s amusement. Perry loses the fight to hide his grin, and Heinz returns to the call. “I don’t care if he spends the night at your house. He’s a robot, he can make his own decisions.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll pick him up in the morning. Alright, thank you for calling.” He hangs up, pocketing the phone again. “Let me tell you, Perry the Platypus, divorced parenting is exhausting.”
Perry chitters in consolation. It occurs to him that he probably should have gotten off Heinz’s lap during the phone call, but mid-fight interruptions don’t have consistent protocol. Heinz is warm, the fabric of his pajama pants is soft, and the part of Perry that is more pet than secret agent nudges at him to curl up and fall asleep. He doesn’t do that, but he doesn’t move either.
Heinz sighs. “You’d think it would be easier, right? I mean, we didn’t part on terrible terms. Charlene just wanted different things. You know, things that weren’t me. It’s fine. I get it. It could be a lot worse.” There’s the self-deprecating dip in his tone that makes Perry’s fur bristle. He has no problem with Charlene – she’s a woman who knows what she wants, and she and Heinz have a surprisingly good friendship for a divorced couple – but he hates how little faith Heinz has in himself. It’s one of the reasons he plays up the “O.W.C.A.’s best agent” thing around his nemesis. It’s not just bragging. Heinz is worth the best, and he deserves to know that.
Perry will never tell him agency policy for why he deserves the best, and it’s been months since he really agreed with it anyway. He sets his hand on Heinz’s chest, moving slowly enough that Heinz will know instinctively it’s not a blow, not a continuation of their fight, and chirrs. It has the desired effect: some of the tension goes out of Heinz, and he smiles ruefully. “I do have you, don’t I? The best nemesis an evil scientist could ask for.”
It's so sappy, but Perry is a sucker for sap. Heinz sounds wistful, and Perry is certain he’s thinking about the people who leave. He returns the gesture, hoping the Heinz knows how sincerely he means it, how important their dynamic is to him. Important enough that he’s suppressed everything else.
Heinz rubs the back of his neck, that familiar tic. He’s almost blushing. “So, uh, back to fighting, I guess? Although it seems a little unfair, what with the inator not being really evil and all.” He contemplates. “I guess I could make some kind of evil plan about untying things, but frankly I’m too tired today. You understand, don’t you?”
Perry nods. It’s more about the routine than the plan anyway. He doesn’t move, and Heinz blinks down at him. “Should I, uh, be cursing you yet?”
Perry tips his head to one side. Heinz hesitates, then inches his hand out and flicks Perry, as if testing the waters. The urge to nip his fingers washes over Perry, and he tamps it down hard. Equally lightly, he bops Heinz with his tail. They stare at each other another long second.
“Okay then,” Heinz says eventually. His cheeks definitely look more heated. Perry feels a little flushed himself. “Curse you, Perry the Platypus?” It is absolutely framed as a question, and Perry tips his hat obligingly. With reluctance, he takes a couple steps back, scooting off Heinz’s lap. He feels colder for the effort.
Heinz pushes himself to his feet, brushing himself off. There’s a bruise starting to swell on his cheek from Perry’s fist. It’s fair play: he’ll need to put ointment on the scratches Heinz gave him when he gets back to his lair. He winces when moving pulls at them, and Heinz pauses. “You, uh, don’t have to go right away. I scratched you up pretty good, I think, and I’ve got some cream for it, if you’d like.” He’s blushing again, for reasons Perry can’t quite understand. Heinz has been doing this more often, lately, especially since the dog-ate-your-homework-inator incident. Asking Perry to stay, that is, and Perry surreptitiously checks his watch. The boys won’t be home for a while. He has the time.
So he nods and lets Heinz lead him out of the lab and back into the rest of his apartment. He knows his way around by heart by now, but he still trails after his nemesis as Heinz fetches the cream from the bathroom, babbling in his habitual way. “Just sit down on the sofa, Perry the Platypus, and we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
Perry obeys, twisting around when Heinz joins him so that the scientist can reach the marks he’s left. Heinz hisses between his teeth. “Ouch. I really did get you good. I hope they’re not too painful.” At Perry’s shrug, he clucks his tongue, “Right, I forgot. Stoic secret agent, acting like nothing can hurt you. I know things hurt you, Perry the Platypus, you don’t have to pretend all the time.”
The words dig under Perry’s ribs, but he’s spared from responding by Heinz’s fingers carding through his fur, applying the ointment to the skin beneath. The rhythmic movement, combined with the medicine, soothes him, and he feels his eyelids fluttering to half-mast, a contented chirr rumbling in his chest.
Heinz pauses. “I, uh, didn’t catch that?”
Naturally. It’s not Platypus, just a meaningless sound, untranslatable in words. It means he’s comfortable here. Too comfortable. He clears his throat and chirrs again, something safe. Heinz nods. “You’re welcome.” He goes back to what he was doing, the gentle stroking of fingertips as his patter picks back up. “You’re lucky I don’t have real ocelot claws, or this would be much worse. And you could stand to pull your punches, too, you know. Well, actually the punches I don’t mind so much, it’s all this biting, what’s up with that? I swear, when we started fighting you didn’t bite half this much.” Perry does blush this time, protected from discovery by his thick teal fur, and Heinz rambles over his internal crisis, “I should be grateful, though, huh? I mean, I’ve read up on platypuses, and you’ve got that ankle spur thing, right? With the venom? Like sheesh, talk about an unfair advantage.”
He pauses, and Perry fights not to tense. “Actually…” Heinz’s fingers leave his back, taking hold of his leg so gently it doesn’t even trigger the urge to kick, sweeping his thumb carefully over the inside of Perry’s ankle. “Huh. I thought so. You never answered me when I asked, and I figured, you kick me often enough that if you did have one, I’d have felt it by now. I thought all male platypuses had them, unless this is some domestic platypus thing? Is it offensive to call you domesticated? I don’t mean to pry.” There’s another terrible, long pause. Perry has no idea what to say, totally frozen, and he can physically hear the gears in Heinz’s internal monologue turning. “Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you sweat milk.” He lets go of Perry’s leg, and when Perry finds it in himself to glance up, Heinz is frowning to himself. “Also, people always bring up the egg-laying thing, but I can never tell if that’s a thing they expect you’re going to do specifically, or if it’s sort of a general summary of the species.”
This is what Perry gets for letting his guard down. It’s not that Heinz has done anything wrong, but Perry never talks about this. He doesn’t know if it’s a big deal or not. He’s actually used an ankle barb in front of Heinz once, but the scientist had been calling Perry “Steven” at the time, and the barb was fake to boot, a gadget that O.W.C.A. had provided at his request, and one he doesn’t wear often, because a domestic platypus sporting venomous barbs is a recipe for disaster. And while Perry can technically sweat milk, Heinz has never seen it (he has seen Perry covered in milk, though, for completely unrelated reasons). Which is to say, collectively, that it was sort of a valid, if somewhat personal question on Heinz’s part, given the information he had access to. Even he isn’t sure why everyone keeps expecting him to lay an egg – he isn’t that kind of asexual, and regardless of his biology, you did at least need two platypuses for that. Maybe his theme song needs rewrites. For clarity.
While he’s at it, he might suggest they change a couple other lines. Sure, it’s not technically incorrect to say “women swoon,” but Perry is gay on top of the ace thing. It might mess with the meter – neither “men,” broadly, nor the more specific, “campy semi-evil scientists with backstory issues,” really fits – but they could at least try to make it closer to his type.
The extended silence has Heinz backpedaling before Perry can gathered himself together enough to answer. “I’m sorry, that really is too personal, isn’t it? It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. I know you’re a private person, and it’s really not important anyway, I just remember getting the email from O.W.C.A. when you were assigned to me, and that said ‘he,’ but if I’m using the wrong pronouns or-“
Perry holds up a hand, and Heinz stops. His nemesis isn’t touching him at all now, his hands fidgeting in his lap as if he’s not sure the touch is allowed anymore. Perry turns to face him fully on the sofa. As clear and directly as he can manage, because Platypus isn’t really meant for this kind of communication, he confirms what Heinz is getting at. ‘He’ is the right pronoun, but Perry is trans.
Heinz takes about five seconds to digest that information, and then nods. “Alright. I mean, thank you for telling me. Just to be clear, it doesn’t really make a difference to me, you’re still my nemesis, but…yeah. I’m sorry if you felt like you had to-“
Perry shakes his head. He didn’t have to; Heinz is easily distractible and Perry could have just as easily lied – he’d already been given an out with the “domesticated platypus” thing – but he does feel comfortable around Heinz. He trusts him. It was bound to come up eventually, and this way…well, one less thing to tell him later.
“Can I finish treating the scratches, or is that a no-go?”
Perry turns his back, and Heinz easily reads it as the sign of trust it is. The fingers comb back, and Perry tries not to melt. Already he feels softer inside, a little bit lighter. Heinz clears his throat, “I gotta say, I am kind of impressed. I mean, we both know I grew up with all sorts of gender-related trauma that I’m still sorting out, what with the dresses and Drusselsteinian rights of manhood and all, so honestly, I’m just impressed that you’ve had it all worked out so well. I should probably apologize for putting you in a ballgown, huh? Was that…I mean, I didn’t know, but I hope that wasn’t too terrible for you.”
Perry shrugs. He doesn’t like dresses, by any means, but it had been more annoying than dysphoria-inducing. He is a platypus, after all. Gender performance is different when you never wear pants.
“How about your family? You’ve got a host family, right? They don’t…I mean, I’d hate to think you go home every day and have to pretend to be a female platypus.”
His vet is an O.W.C.A. plant who always uses the right pronouns (and changed the marker on his paperwork), so the Flynn-Fletchers have never had any reason to think Perry is anything other than male. He shrugs again. It’s a bridge he’s glad he doesn’t have to cross, not because he thinks they’d be transphobic – quite the opposite – but because as a supposedly non-sentient animal, he’d have no way to explain the truth to them. Stacy could probably explain for him, but then they’d probably have to go over “secret agent,” and then it would be mind-wipe city all over again – really, there’s just no good option there, and he’s lucky it isn’t likely to become a problem.
It occurs to him that Heinz has to be done with the ointment by now. Even if he was being thorough, what he’s feeling on his fur has turned into idle petting. It’s…nice. They rarely get this close unless they’re actively fighting. It’s vulnerable – in more ways than one – but it’s nice.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned I’m bi,” Heinz says casually, and Perry’s eyes, which had started to go lidded again from the petting, pop wide open. “Obviously it’s not a gender thing, but it did take some figuring out. Let me tell you, it’s quite an eye-opener to realize you don’t just feel inferior to guys because you want to compete with them, but because you want to date them too. I probably have a complex about it, or something. Maybe I can turn it into a backstory, hmm?”
He sounds half-amused, half-deprecating again, but the words keep looping in Perry’s mind. Heinz is bi. He feels like he should have known, but…does it mean anything, Heinz telling him this now? Is it just that they’re both a little vulnerable, thrown off their rhythm and opening up? Or…
He blurts it, the message chirped before he can hold it in. He’s gay.
Some secret agent he’s turning out to be today.
The petting stops, but Heinz doesn’t let go. This time, it only takes him about two seconds to process. “Oh. I did wonder. I mean, we talk about my dating life sometimes, but never yours.”
Perry chitters. He doesn’t date. He’s a workaholic. Also ace, which he worries could make things complicated. Heinz snorts. “It really shouldn’t. You’re a handsome platypus, I’m sure there are plenty of people who would fall all over you, given the chance.”
Caught between the realization that he’s running out of other private things to tell Heinz in this strange moment of honesty and the fuzzy feeling from Heinz complimenting him again, Perry bites down hard on his tongue, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that he has to swallow back the yelp. He gives a weak smile and finger-guns back at Heinz, but it’s a lackluster response and he knows it, too cavalier against his usual stoicism. “I mean it,” Heinz presses. “You could have any monotreme you wanted fawning over you, Mr. Smooth, Fluffy Secret Agent. You’re a real catch.”
Perry bites his tongue harder, because to admit that his interest isn’t solely in other monotremes is just a stones-throw away from admitting that he’s found himself interested in a human, a specific human, a human who is sitting here petting him and making conversation at the same time, that perfect, rare blend of letting Perry be both sentient and animal, purely himself. Because that’s the kicker. He can be himself around Heinz, more fully than anywhere else. He shifts uneasily.
Heinz tenses, looking embarrassed, and pulls his hand away. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. There aren’t a lot of people in my life who, you know, stick around. Call me biased, but I’m a little attached, that’s all. Nothing…nothing weird or anything.”
Perry should go. He really should go, while this is still reasonably professional and his dignity – his friend/nemesis-ship – is still intact. Instead, he puts a hand on Heinz’s knee. Heinz’s rambling ceases for a heartbeat, and then he smiles weakly. “I know. Vanessa keeps telling me, if you haven’t left yet, it’s probably not going to happen. I still worry, you know? It’s kind of my thing.”
Perry leans a little harder. He isn’t going anywhere. His chest tightens, and he can feel the prickling all along his skin, to the tips of his tail and his webbed hind paws. He’s going to say it. He can feel it in his gut.
Heinz stares at the teal paw on his thigh, visibly swallowing. He squirms, like he’s thinking of scooting away, and Perry jerks it back before he has the chance. Everything is a dance with them, and Perry can’t afford to get the steps wrong. Their relationship is a series of reactions. If he triggers the wrong one…
“I know it’s not as weird as it feels in my head,” Heinz says, and he’s looking at the floor, not Perry, “but I keep thinking about, like, Elizabeth. You remember her, the one who left me for the whale?”
Of course, Perry remembers. He gives a succinct nod, folding his hands in his lap where it’s safe. He’s not certain where Heinz is going with this, but he’s grateful for the reprieve.
“It’s not a big deal, right? The whale’s sentient, she’s sentient, she speaks whale…well, now she does, I think, but that’s not really…my point is, they can communicate, right? Which makes it…not weird.”
Perry hesitates. He recognizes the justification. It’s one of many he’s been using to make his lo- his affection for Heinz feel less strange.
“It’s just…I was raised by ocelots, obviously, and they expected I’d settle down with an animal. And we both know my dating history with humans…not good.” Heinz winces. “Just…you know. Something I’ve been thinking about.”
The words are so careful, and Heinz still isn’t looking at him. Perry’s heart thunders in his ears. He’s been dismissing cues from Heinz as wishful thinking, and maybe this is more of the same. But he’s here, on Heinz’s couch, at Heinz’s invitation, and his nemesis is talking about dating an animal. Everything about today is upside down and Perry…just this once, he thinks, it’s better to not play his cards to close to the vest. Just this once, it’s better to not be an agent.
He chitters, and the message is clearer than anything he’s told Heinz before. Because any animal would be lucky to have Heinz, brilliant scientist and amazing man that he is. Perry counts himself among them. And for a man who speaks a surprising number of languages for a human (English, German, Drusselsteinian – which just seems like bad German, as far as Perry can tell – Ocelot, Whale, Platypus, conversational Panda, increasingly improved Spanish, and at least fragments of half a dozen more) and who almost never, in Perry’s experience, ever shuts up at all, Heinz looks to be at a genuine loss for words. He actually opens his mouth and closes it. Twice.
Perry waits.
It’s a long wait.
What Heinz eventually manages is, “You think I’m brilliant?”
Perry rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb towards the lab. Overcomplicated though Heinz’s plots may be, especially for petty revenge, they are nothing short of incredible feats of science. He chirrs, reminding Heinz that it’s not just his inventions: Heinz learned Platypus for him, just to help them communicate. He’s a great father. He’s a great friend. He is, in short, at least as much of a catch as Perry is. Maybe more.
Heinz deflates, just a little. “Right. This is, uh, a wingman kind of thing? You’re saying this to help me be more confident?”
To borrow a phrase the Heinz has never actually said on screen, mein gott the man is thick. Which is fair. His self-esteem is so low most days, it hovers somewhere just above the center of the earth. And Perry isn’t a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal of words. He’s a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal of action. So, he does what he should have done to begin with.
He bites Heinz’s hand.
Heinz shrieks and jumps up, clutching at his fingers. Perry curses, because Heinz was right. Titanium is liable to crack a tooth, even covered in whatever material Heinz has that makes it as soft and sensitive as real skin.
“Perry the Platypus, that was uncalled for.”
Well, he’s really not a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal of romance. We’ve been over this. He hops off the sofa, striding past a spluttering Heinz towards his bookshelf, and yanks down an almanac. He smacks it down on the coffee table, open to the right page, and jabs a finger at the paragraph. Heinz blinks. “Platypus mating habits? Perry the Platypus-“
Perry chitters.
“Yes, I know you’re asexual, you said that already.”
He chitters again.
“You…like me. Like me, like me?”
Perry nods. The lightbulbs are coming on in that gorgeous brain.
“So the biting-“
Perry shrugs. He’s still an animal, after all.
Heinz face goes into the most exaggerated ohhh Perry has ever witnessed. His eyes goggle, and slowly, very slowly, a grin – half smug, half bashful – spreads across his face. “Perry the Platypus, you have a crush on me?”
That was absolutely not the word Perry had used. Heinz is proficient enough, it clearly didn’t get lost in translation. Perry rolls his eyes again.
“Oh, that is so unprofessional! Look at you, Mr. Secret Agent, getting all swoony over your nemesis!”
He has never once swooned in front of Heinz. He has never swooned in his life.
“Does Francis know? Is there paperwork you have to fill out, like ‘I promise to still thwart Heinz Doofenshmirtz even though I think he’s a total hottie?’”
Well, now he just sounds like Vanessa. Perry narrows his eyes, but Heinz’s grin doesn’t fade in the least. “You like me.”
Perry makes it very clear he’s considering rescinding that statement.
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.” Heinz flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. God, Perry lo- he really likes that tic. It’s cute. “But you, you’re not joking, right? You mean it, you like me.”
There’s still a coffee table between them. Perry climbs on top of it. It doesn’t put him at eye level with Heinz – very few pieces of furniture would do that – but it gets him high enough that, with Heinz’s slouch, he can reach the scientist’s exaggerated chin with a small, teal hand, tugging him down. He chirrs, bapping Heinz with his bill. It’s not really a kiss, but Perry hasn’t quite figured out the logistics of that yet. He’ll work on it.
Heinz folds down onto his knees, sitting back hard. He clears his throat. The flush is so deep now that it reaches down his neck, disappearing under his collar. “I, uh. Like you too. Just to be crystal clear about…I mean, I was actually really worried you were going to figure it out, you’re very observant, Perry the Platypus, very smart. I would have said something, but we have a good thing, don’t we? I didn’t want to ruin that.”
Perry smiles.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation while I’m still in my pajamas. And before breakfast, too.”
It wouldn’t be before breakfast if Heinz hadn’t stayed up so late with his soaps, but Perry doesn’t mention that. Heinz straightens as a thought occurs to him. “Is there paperwork you have to fill out? I know your agency is a little loose with some of this stuff, but I have to imagine there’s some kind of form for dating your nemesis.”
Perry shrugs. There is, but he’ll work the details out with Carl later. His watch beeps, and he sighs. Time to get home if he wants to make it before the boys are out of school. Heinz gives him a questioning look, and Perry tips his head ruefully towards the door.
“You have to go?”
He nods.
“Host family stuff? I get it. I’d like to meet them someday, if that’s okay. Not, obviously not right now, that would blow your cover, but eventually. You’ve already met most of my family anyway, it only seems fair.”
Perry doesn’t tell Heinz that he’s already met most of the Flynn-Fletchers. There might be a little awkwardness with Linda, but Perry thinks the boys would adore Heinz as a mentor in invention. And Candace is already friends with Vanessa. It’s not a stretch. One day, he promises. When they’ll be allowed to remember.
“I’ll take it,” Heinz beams. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow? I promise I’ll have something genuinely evil with the…I guess I’ll change the name to untie-inator now, although now you do know what it does, so maybe the point is moot? Anyway, real scheme. Promise.”
Tomorrow, Perry agrees. He’s looking forward to whatever Heinz comes up with. Heinz hesitates, then leans forward and kisses the top of Perry’s bill. The movement is jerky, uncertain, and a little awkward, but Perry’s cheeks heat anyway, all the sensitive electro-receptors lighting up at the contact and making him tingle all the way down to his webbed toes. He tips his hat and steps down off the coffee table as Heinz stands, making his way into the kitchen, lingering to watch his nemesis – his boyfriend – open the fridge in search of breakfast. Heinz’s chatter picks up again easily, low at first and then pitching upward so Perry can still hear, even from the other room. “I’m totally out of milk. I could have sworn there was still some in the carton, but…you know, I was reading an article the other day, and did you know, they think your milk could hold some kind of cure for all sorts of human illnesses? Not your specifically, I mean platypus milk. The article was talking about super bugs, and let me tell you, I was very disappointed to find out they didn’t mean giant, ferocious bugs I could make do my bidding, but teeny microscopic viruses. Sounds like false advertising to me. Anyway, I’m not suggesting I lick you to get a super healthy immune system or anything creepy like that, but you know. The more you know. Also, apparently very low in lactose, so my intolerance wouldn’t even be a problem. You’re a very weird mammal, you know that, Perry the Platypus? Very weird.”
Perry snorts. This coming from the man who acts like an ocelot. He pads out of the living room, back towards the lab. No sense running when he doesn’t need to make a quick, suave escape. He leaves the inator alone – he’ll be back for that tomorrow, and if they have some free time after, maybe he’ll work out how to really kiss his boyfriend – but stops at the pile of ties, unknotted but still in a heap. He fishes one out of the pile. Heinz was right, orange polka dots really are his color. He rolls it up, tucking it into his hat for safekeeping, and in the background, he can still hear Heinz talking, maybe to Perry or himself or no one in particular, just filling the silence. When he leaps from the balcony, custom hang glider with his face already unfurling, Perry’s even looking forward to his mission debrief, paperwork and all. Because even if Heinz isn’t really an ocelot, they’re both weird in their own ways, and that makes this thing between them not so bizarre after all. Just a couple of nemesis, scheming and thwarting, talking and kissing, loving each other like the saps they both are. Yeah, Perry the Platypus loves Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz. He thinks he can be okay with that.
In the meantime, he has his boys to get back to. He might know what he’s doing tomorrow, but he can’t wait to find out what they’re doing today.