AN: Well, we're up to The Answer aka number 42. Ha. Ha ha. I'm funny.
The fic's called "I Can't Move 'Cause He's Comfortable There", title from Indigo by Kississippi, and it's just shameless fluff. Perry really needs a day off, I'll say that much.
(You may have noticed that this fic and the one before it have slightly adjusted spelling for their titles here, and it's entirely because of ffn's title character limit. Which is a massive pain btw. Ao3 gives me 255 characters to work with, this is more like 40, and I can't always get a good title into 40 characters.)
You first notice it when you walk in. As he traps you and begins his monologue, you find your attention drawn back to the open doorway. It lingers in the back of your mind as you fight him.
Why does your nemesis have a whole room filled with pillows?
It must be so soft, a small part of your mind points out, as you duck under his fist. Curled up in there, finally able to sleep...
Distraction almost lets his foot close enough to do some real damage, and you push all other thought out of your mind. This, what you're doing now, thwarting him, it's like a dance, back and forth in a rhythm you've both grown familiar with. Punch and kick and bite and dodge and duck and roll and jump and grab and throw.
He flies across the room, slamming into the wall next to the doorway, and if he were anyone else that would be the end of it. But because this is him, he gets up again. "Come on," he complains, brushing himself off, "can't you let me have one win? It's not even that evil."
Instead of answering, you judge the angle, then shuffle sideways. If you aim just right... Running at him, you jump at his chest and tackle him straight into the pillow room.
"You could have just asked, you know," he points out as you try to roll him onto his back, wrestling for dominance. "I made it for- well, okay, I had all these blankets and pillows just lying around and didn't know where else to put them. That's it."
You narrow your eyes with a huff, because really. Does he actually expect you to believe that? No, knowing him, it's almost certainly Evil in some day. Why else would he still be fighting?
Before long, he's pins you down by the shoulders, grinning breathlessly. "I trapped you," he murmurs, right before you wrap your tail around his knee and yank. Losing his balance, he collapses on top of you with a groan. "Nobody likes a sore loser, Perry the Smugapus."
One knee to the stomach later and you're shoving his weight off you, taking a perch atop his chest instead while he glares. You have every right to be smug, you've already won and you both know it.
"Okay, you've thwarted me," he sighs, like it wasn't inevitable, and brings his arm up to scratch at your shoulders. "I hope you're happy."
Very.
Stretching your arms over your head, you can't help but yawn, exhaustion catching up with you. How long has it been since you got any uninterrupted sleep?
He wheezes when you flop onto his chest, and you don't care, you're quite comfortable right where you are. "Ha," he wheezes, in that tone that means he's Up To Something, "I trapped you after all. Even you can't resist my warm blankets, so you'll fall asleep right here, on... on my chest, and I can- I mean, if you weren't so adorable there, I could- You know, on second thought this doesn't seem like a good idea at all. Curse you, Perry the Sleepapus." He doesn't mean it, he's still stroking his fingers through your fur, the way he does when he's distracted or sad.
Squirming closer, you tuck your bill into the crook of his neck, fully resigned to the fact that this will be your life for the next while. At least a few minutes, because it really has been too long since you had any time to yourself.
"If you really needed a break you could have just asked," he grumbles, a purr on the edge of his voice, his fingertips finding the itch you've been trying to reach for days. "I know you're my nemesis but it's not the same when you're too exhausted to thwart me properly." With his other hand, he pulls a blanket over you both, tucking you in against him. "And if you wanted to do this more often... I won't object, if that's what you're worried about."
And that's why you trust your nemesis. He has every chance to hurt you right now, if he wanted - you're too tired to fight back if he did - and it's like the thought never even crosses his mind. Sometimes you wonder if he's evil at all. He's always so gentle with you, when you're not thwarting him. Almost reverent, and if you weren't so tired you'd wonder why that's so easy to believe.
The last thing you're aware of, as exhaustion claims you, is a soft touch to your brow. "Sleep well, Perry the Platypus."
When you wake up, long enough later that the afternoon sun is shining into the room, he's asleep under you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you trace a paw over the lines on his face, scars and wrinkles and the edge of a new bruise from your fists. The sight brings up feelings you're not sure how to untangle.
He barely twitches as your fingers brush over every part of his face, so different from his usual animated self. When you fight him, thwart him, he has boundless energy, like he can't stay still. When he monologues, he's breathtaking.
When he's quiet, like this, you have to wonder what it is he's running from.
You still don't know everything about the man you fight, there's still something he hasn't shared with you. Some answer that will make everything else fall into place, an explanation for the enigma that is Heinz Doofenshmirtz.
Letting your fingers caress his rough lips now, you check your watch, wincing at the time. Late enough that you probably should leave soon. When you can escape from the trap that is his arms, wrapped loosely around your waist. His most ingenious one yet.
Another few minutes can't hurt, you decide instead, and lay back down, pressing your bill to his bare skin once again to anchor yourself in his steady heartbeat. He's comfortable, and you're still exhausted, and he gets sad when you leave without telling him. He'd never admit it, but he does.
The next time you wake up, it's to something prodding you in the side. You swat at it, growling tiredly, and burrow further into the snug warmth surrounding you.
"Perry the Platypus?" Heinz asks, with another prod. Heinz. Your nemesis.
Guilt twists at your stomach as you sit up, straightening your fedora, carefully not looking at your watch. How did you let this happen? You should have been home hours ago, not fraternising with your nemesis. Again.
Moving his hand to your shoulders, he sighs, scritching softly. "Oh good, you are awake," he murmurs, sounding almost disappointed. "I mean, you're usually gone by now, back to wherever it is you go when you leave, what else was I supposed to do? You're cute while you're asleep, don't get me wrong - especially since you're not punching me in the face for once - but that doesn't mean you want to stay."
Whether or not you want to has nothing to do with it. You have two sides of your life, and you won't abandon either of them.
"So I thought to myself, Heinz, you have to let him go. Not that I'm making you leave, but..." Trailing off, he lets his hand fall from your fur, glancing away.
The shape of the words he left unsaid hangs in the air between you, everything he can't admit. How could you not hear it? Regret, loneliness, yearning, all feelings you know well. To see them reflected in his eyes...
But he's right, you do need to go.
Pushing the blanket aside, you brace yourself on his shoulders and stretch, letting out a soft chirr at the relief. You needed this. As thanks, you lean forward to nuzzle at his jaw.
A strangled sound escapes his throat and he turns to face you again, eyes wide, his breath ghosting along your bill. "P-Perry the Platypus?" His cheeks darken, and you wonder what he's thinking. It's not like him to tremble like this. "Are you- Was that a kiss in platypus, or am I totally misreading this situation?"
Is that what he thought it was? A kiss? Maybe to platypuses it is, but you were raised by humans, hatched in the O.W.C.A. nurseries. You're far from an expert on platypus customs. With all the research he's done, he probably knows far more than you do.
And yet, the thought of kissing him, like the people in your stories... You glance down at his lips again, the way he's biting them, and back up into his vivid blue eyes.
"Because," he adds, almost breathless, "I wouldn't mind-"
Cupping his jaw in your palm, you close the distance between you, touching your bill to his lips. It's not as easy as your stories always made it look, but it feels right to kiss him like this. To kiss your nemesis.
He squeaks, a new sound that you immediately want to hear more of, and surges forward with his usual manic energy. Is this what kissing feels like for humans? It has to be, why else would it come up so much in your stories? Settling his hands in your fur, he takes the lead like he's done this before, his rough lips leaving sparks in his wake.
When he pulls back, it's with wide eyes and parted lips, his breath coming short and fast and hot on your bill. Human-hot. "Was that what you wanted, Perry the Platypus?"
Eyes closed, you press your forehead to his and nod, still reeling from the intensity of it. You'd known your bill was sensitive with close proximity but not like this. The shape of him lingers in your mind, an echo on your bill of the beat of his heart, the twitch of his muscles, the whirring of his titanium arms, and you wonder why it took you so long. Kissing your nemesis...
You stretch again with a groan, shaking the last of your exhaustion out through your tail, and slide out from under his arms. As good as it was to sleep without interruption for once, you have to go. It doesn't matter if you want to. Because, again, he's not the only important part of your life.
"You're leaving then?" he asks when you reach the doorway, voice catching, and you nod. "Will you at least come back?"
Of course you will, he's your nemesis. One kiss won't change that. Neither would continuing to kiss him, because you know how to keep your work separate from your personal life. You've done it for years. Lifting your wrist, you tap the watch on it to get his attention, then trace a finger around the edge.
He brightens. "Tomorrow? Tomorrow," he confirms. "Do you want a scheme, or would you rather, you know, talk about this? Or both! We could do both, how does that sound? Talk about it and fight. Or the other way around, I'm not picky."
Unable to help your grin, you give him a thumbs-up. Better than he thinks. The last thing you want to do is lose him, as a nemesis or as... whatever you are now.
"Good!" he squeaks, high enough that he blushes from it, a sight you immediately want more of. "I mean. I never know what to say to these, most of the people I kiss just leave- No, you're right, I'm overthinking it. I'll see you tomorrow then, Perry the- Can I call you Perry the Boyfriend? It has a nice ring to it- You really should consider it- Okay, we'll talk about it tomorrow. After you thwart me. You are going to thwart me, aren't you?"
You touch your hat in affirmation. Nothing could keep you from thwarting him, not even a shift in your relationship. It's comfortable. Like the pillows still strewn around the room, that you absolutely will not be mentioning in your report, you have a reputation to uphold.
With that, you leave, back to your family, who - you check your watch - are almost certainly worrying about you by now. Heinz's fault. You'll punch him for it tomorrow, when you come back. You can't wait.
AN: Tl;dr Perry rationalises snuggles (and smooching) with his nemesis.
