AN: "Five Times Heinz Gave His Nemesis Scritches And One Time He Received Them", my first finished 5+1. From just under two months ago, as I post this.


The first time you pet his fur, it's an accident. Barely even a pet. You go to grab at him, mid-thwart, succeeding only in dragging your fingers down his back.

He lands on all fours, stiff, looking about as shocked as you feel. Somehow you'd forgotten he's a platypus. An animal, with fur and- He recovers first, shaking it off and rising to his hind legs, glaring at you.

Oh well. At least you know his weakness now, not that you'll ever take advantage of that to defeat him. It would ruin the whole point.


The second time, you're walking him to the door after your scheme when you take the opportunity to drag your finger down his spine. He punches you for it, which you'd expected, but that can't hide the way his eyes closed like he enjoyed it.

Interesting. Looks like Perry the Platypus isn't made of rock after all, and not just because his fur is so soft. Which it is.

Who would have guessed OWCA's best agent would be so fluffy?

You start dreaming about it after that, a vast expanse of teal fur, smooth and silky, wide enough to lose yourself in. It makes a nice change from the usual nightmares, you know that much.


The third time, you'd once again invited him to watch a movie with you in your apartment that evening, and for once he'd accepted. Which is unexpected, and by that you mean actually unexpected. You didn't expect it.

Sitting beside him now on a couch that suddenly seems far too small, you squirm in place, hyperaware of just how close he is to you. Has he even noticed?

He glances up at you and smiles. Yeah, he noticed.

On impulse, you try for the classic "yawn and stretch" manoeuvre, settling your arm around his shoulders. He doesn't hit you for it this time, so you try your luck and rub at his arm with your fingertips.

All he does is lean into your side, shockingly solid, and exhale. How do you respond to that?

By continuing, apparently. Your hand drifts up to his shoulder and down his back, increasing the pressure as you go, without you ever consciously deciding to do it. Mostly because you can't believe he's letting you.

Then he flops over your thigh with a growl, just about melting into you, and you hold your breath. Mostly because his fist could slam into your groin at any moment if he suddenly changes his mind. It's hard not to think about how close his fist is every time he so much as twitches but you try anyway, focusing on massaging his tight shoulders.

Apparently he is rock after all, hiding it just under his soft fur. "Sheesh, how tense are you?" you complain, increasing the pressure until he's digging his fingers into your thigh. "You should really just take a weekend off, you know. Or the whole week. We both know you haven't had a day off in ages, since you're always here instead." And even when you go to take a break, he shows up anyway, and you can't let him win by default. "You should think about it, at least."

He makes a noise of disgust and shakes his head, losing more of whatever was holding him up. Stiffness, probably.

"I know fighting me is your whole thing," you continue, moving your hand down his back, "but trust me, you need the break, I haven't had a good solid thwarting in weeks. I don't even have to try to trap you any more, look!" Dragging your fingers down his spine, you pull a groan from his throat. He is well and truly trapped. "Tell me if I'm wrong, Perry the Platypus: If you could fight me right now, you would. But you can't."

In response, he thumps your knee with a fist, and it doesn't even hurt. Much nicer than if he'd used the other fist. Knowing him, that was the point.

Moving your hand back up to work at his shoulders, you grin smugly, because he is trapped. And he likes it. "Didn't think so." And you can't resist gloating. Of course not, you're an evil scientist, that's what you do. He should be used to this by now.

Instead, you get another thump, and a flash of a hand gesture you ignore because one of you has to be polite. Ungrateful, that's what he is.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask anyway, because you have to check. "Because I can stop, if you don't want-" There's no way he could actually want this, right? Of course not. Not with you. "Not that I mind."

He huffs, reaching out to grab your other hand and shove it into his fur as well, which is the opposite of what you'd expected, and holds it there until you start scritching. Who are you to argue? Especially with that noise he's making, a deep rumble in his chest. You didn't grow up with ocelots to not recognise a purr when you hear one.

Clearing your throat, you mutter a "I hope you're happy, Perry the Platypus," in his general direction. Because you are.


The fourth time, you'd been mid-monologue when he'd started squirming, and not in the way that means he's secretly cutting the ropes. You can tell. He's done it enough times for you to recognise it, and besides, he usually waits until you're done before breaking free.

Pausing your backstory, you stand in front of him, hands on your hips. "You'd better not be trying to escape, Perry the Platypus," you complain, because did he have to choose now, and he shakes his head. "You're not? If you're lying to me..." You don't finish that thought, because you're not sure what you'd do, and it's easier to leave the threat implied.

He twitches again, looking up at you with pleading eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"Fine," you sigh, and kneel in front of the chair you tied him to. "Don't think this means I'm letting you free, by the way, you're staying trapped until I'm done with my monologue. Where does it itch?"

Lifting his head, he chirrs, and his chin is so inviting you scritch it without thinking. How can you resist? His expression shifts almost immediately, open and wanting as he stares at you, and you bite your lip. At least you got it right. And he's so close, his pupils so wide...

You swallow a whimper, glancing away before you embarrass yourself. This is just a favour for a friend. Nemesis. Nothing more than that. Why would he want-

His little hand curls around your jaw, turning your face back to his gorgeous brown eyes, and you don't know if he moves first or if you do but you're kissing him now. Apparently he does want to after all.

Head spinning, you pull back for air, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. "Perry the Platypus," you mumble, pressing your forehead to his as you catch your breath, "how unexpected, and by unexpected I mean I didn't expect you-" To touch your cheek, for one thing. He's supposed to be tied up. "You were trying to escape!"

He just smirks.

So you kiss him again, since that's an option now. Sure, you always lose when you fight him, but maybe this will be different. After all, this isn't a fight. This is your tongues battling for dominance. Which is like a fight, but not a fight.

Then he kicks you in the stomach and you grin breathlessly. Okay, maybe it is. And you're glad, because you know how to deal with fights.


The fifth time had come mere hours later. Your fight had ended up in the bedroom, with a whole other sort of climax, and now he's lying in bed next to you with his soft belly on display. What else are you supposed to do? Not curl around him and run your fingers through his fur, murmuring compliments into his ear?

He chirrs softly, stretching his arms over his head and leaving them there, then twisting to nuzzle at your jaw. Perfect, that's what he is.

"Curse you, Perry the Platypus."


You stopped counting after that. You don't need to bother any more, this is your relationship now. You get to scritch his warm fluffy fur, you get to kiss him, and you still get thwarted because no amount of romance will ever soften his stony glare.

Life is good.

Even when you stay up all night building your inators, again, and fall asleep on the floor, again, these days you tend to wake up to the scent of Perry the Platypus's tea because he's let himself in, again, to wait for you to be ready. At least he's polite about it. Sometimes he drapes a blanket over your shoulders too, so you're warm while he sits in your armchair and watches your tv.

Which is why it's so surprising to find yourself hauled onto your couch this morning, head in his lap, feeling his fingers combing through your hair. You're not complaining, as such, just surprised. Of all the ways to wake up, you can't imagine a better one.

Holding your breath, you pretend you're still asleep so he has no reason to stop. Would he be doing it if he thought you'd notice?

He sighs, paw stilling. With the other, he flicks your nose, with just enough force that you know he's not actually mad at you. He just knows you're awake. Of course he does, he's your nemesis, you'd be more surprised if he couldn't tell.

There's no point hiding it any more so you groan, stretching, and roll over to face him. "Good morning to you too," you mumble, nuzzling into his nice warm fur.

Rolling his eyes, he gets back to scritching your hair, and you let out a breath. What were you even worried about? His paw feels so nice, and his chest is rumbling against your cheek, and you did have a late night last night...

Maybe you can stay here for a while longer. That sounds nice.


AN: Reviews always appreciated~