AN: A future!fic today, "I, Like, Like-Like You", set on their tenth wedding anniversary. Not AYA compliant.
"Perry the Platypus," Heinz begins after dinner, reaching across the table to take your paw. He's nervous, you can see it in his eyes, the way his brows furrow under his now-white hair. "I..."
You squeeze his fingers, resting your other paw atop his hand, and smile. Whatever it is, you probably already know. Hard not to when you've been married so long. You're comfortable now, with him, your nemesis, except he hasn't been your nemesis for a good long while now, has he. Not officially. Still, no one can take it away from you either.
In your paw, his hand trembles. "I had a monologue for this, I don't know how I forgot- Okay. So, I know it's been a long time, we're-" He glances at the ring he put on your finger, all those years ago. It matches the one you put on his. "-and, well, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately..."
Squeezing his fingers, you smile. He doesn't have anything to fear from you. You've heard it all, and you accept him as he is, always have. He's your nemesis, what else can you do?
"About us," he clarifies, and looks away. "I like this, don't get me wrong. Knowing you're here, with me, because you want to be. That feels really great, you have no idea. And the way you hold me at night, that's great too. It's just... I don't know how I never realised it before. Perry the Platypus, I... I like-like you."
He just...
Tears prick at your eyes and you haul him closer, just close enough to kiss him properly, your bill on his human lips. You're so proud of him for being able to say it now, at long last. It's something he's struggled with since you met him, and probably decades before that, a mix of loneliness and fear of abandonment that's left him terrified of making connections and growing attached. Ten long years and he's just starting to accept that you won't leave him after all.
You've known he loves you for years, of course. Or, apparently, like-likes. It comes through in his every action, his every word, the fondness and affection and love. Impossible to miss. When he kisses your forehead, when he curls around you in bed, when he makes an inator for you to thwart like old times, that's love. Like-like. Whatever. He said it, that's what matters.
Pulling your paws back, you slide around the table to be by his side. His whole body shakes when you lean against him, and you automatically wrap your arms as far around his waist as they'll go, your tail curling around his leg.
One more reason to like this place. No one cares what you do, as long as you do it quietly, or at least what passes for quietly from your husband.
He twists his ring around his finger, a nervous tic he's picked up since you put it there. "Are you sure, Perry the Platypus?" he asks, for what must be the millionth time, to make sure your answer's yes. Which it is, and always has been. He never did pick up on your utter helplessness against his charm.
Then again, he wouldn't be Heinz if he did.
At least he's stopped slouching so much. Back when he'd proposed, he'd hunched in on himself, and you know him well enough to know he's afraid to take up space in the world. He'd thought you'd refuse him, and he'd asked anyway. Of course you'd agreed. It was a scheme, with him it always is, but even back then he was your greatest weakness. You can't help but like him. Or, to use his words, like-like him.
Here, today, in the restaurant he always takes you to for your anniversary, all you need is this mix of pride and love for your nemesis. He still holds that title in your heart, the only evil scientist who could ever keep up with you. Your equal and opposite.
Letting out a sigh, he curls his arm around you, smiling. "Thank you, Perry the Platypus. For... for being here, mostly. That means a lot, let me tell you."
With a contented sigh of your own, you bury your face in his lab coat and breathe in. Exactly where you want to be. Over the years you've come to love his scent, sweat and soot and pork and his aftershave, drawing comfort from its familiarity. Your paw slides under his shirt to trace one of the raised scars over his belly, dipping into the small hollow he claims every human has.
"Hey!" he squeaks, a blush spreading across his face, grabbing your arm and shifting it so it rests outside his clothing. "What do you think you're doing, huh? And in public too! Shame on you, Perry the Ticklepus."
You lift your head, raising an eyebrow at him. What you're doing, since he asks, is making it clear just how much you adore him and the body he inhabits. He gets all nice and shivery in your arms if you do it right, what's not to love? He's shivering now, eyes locked on yours, tooth catching on his lip.
Go ahead, Heinz, you challenge him silently, say what's on your mind. Your tail tightens around his leg.
Cupping his other hand around your jaw, he bends closer and kisses you instead, slow and lingering. His human warmth spreads through your body and you can't help but shiver yourself. A trap, one you can't escape without pulling away from his touch on your waist, your neck, your bill, where you've pressed your own body to his. He'd let you go, if you asked. That's why it works.
Is this his answer? Has to be, he's barely even mumbling into your bill. Just holding you, tight enough that you couldn't forget you're being held, not that you ever wanted to.
He has to pull away for air eventually, one downside of his human lungs, and when he does you give him an easy grin and slide a paw up to rest over his heart. Watching his brain come back online is one of your favourite things, the way he blinks and swallows and turns his gaze back to you. His lips part and nothing comes out, not even a squeak, while his cheeks redden. This must be what silence sounds like around your husband. You'd always wondered.
In all honesty, flustered or not, you'd expected a monologue right about now, the usual verbal waterfall of whatever's crossing his mind at the time spilling out of his mouth. He's good at those. Good at talking himself around in circles, too, to your eternal exasperation.
Maybe he's run out of words, for once in his life. He's not even cursing your name. You'd be more worried if you hadn't been sliding your tail further up his leg, seeing how far he'd let you go. Far enough that you should get him out of here in the name of public decency, apparently, so you should probably get going before he causes an incident. Again. Getting banned would put a damper on your anniversary, especially since you rather like this place and its seafood.
The important thing, you decide as you pay for both your meals and lead him away by the hand, back to the home you've shared with him for the past few years, is that he's chosen to spend today, and every day for the last decade or so, and presumably many more days to come, with you. Because he like-likes you. Which, in platypus, translates to...
"Krkrkrkrkr."
AN: I'm love them.
