AN: It's been a few days, but here's "Don't Go Bacon My Heart", featuring Stacy because I love her.


You're woken, way later than usual, by the smell of bacon cooking. And a lack of Perry the Platypus tucked into your side - unlike the first time you woke up today, when he'd been too adorable for you to dare move - which means he's probably responsible. Or he left and Norm's making breakfast. You're not sure which.

Groaning, you stand, and make your way towards the kitchen. You have to investigate this.

The last thing you'd expected was to find a stool dragged over by the stove, with Perry the Platypus on top, standing over a frying pan. All he's wearing is the usual fedora, not that you're complaining. "Good morning to you too, Perry the Platypus," you murmur instead, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms loosely around his waist, resting your chin on his fedora since he's just the right height for it. "You're not wearing a shirt while you cook bacon? I tried that once, not my best decision, really bad for the nipples, you know? Look, you can see the scars! If you squint. Might be hard to see, I have a lot of- But you do you, I guess."

He huffs, and you don't need to see his eyes to know he's rolling them. How does he not notice the oil spitting? You've barely been here for a minute and you've already gotten a few burns on the backs of your hands.

"What?" If you weren't draped over him you'd fold your arms, indignant. "I'm serious. Don't tell me you don't have nipples. You're a mammal, aren't you?" You can't help it, you have to check, feeling up his chest. Any excuse to touch your handsome secret agent boyfriend.

This time, he turns to look at you directly, eyebrow raised. He doesn't have nipples? Is that what he's telling you right now? Talk about unexpected.

You wouldn't believe it, but you've got your hands on his chest right now and you can't find anything, so. "You don't, do you? Of course not. Is that a platypus thing, or did you lose them in an inator accident or something? I did that once, you know. Took them three hours to reattach it. Not fun, believe me."

Rolling his eyes, he curls a paw around the back of your neck and yanks you into a kiss. Not hard, he isn't trying to hurt you, but enough that you have to cling to him for balance. Knowing him, that was the point.

"At least wear an apron," you gasp, when he lets you up for air. "One of those ones that says 'kiss the cook' or something, I bet you'd look handsome in that." And he'd be naked underneath it - he never bothers with clothes anyway and you can't see that changing - and that'd make him even more tantalising than usual. Which is a lot. "Not that you aren't already handsome, because you are."

He swats at your knuckles with his tail, wearing that slight smile you know means he's flustered. Sliding his paw from your neck to your arm, he traces a path down, tucking his paw into your palm at the end where it belongs. With the other, he prods a spatula at the bacon in its pan.

Pressing up against his back again, you set your free hand on his waist and pull him closer, idly playing with his fur. "That smells good, by the way. I hope you're making some for me."

That gets you another tail flick and you laugh, giddy, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He loves you. It's taken you a while to accept that, and sometimes you still wonder if it's all just a dream, but he keeps telling you so it must be true. At least, you want it to be.

"Love you too," you murmur anyway, because he hasn't hit you for it yet. "I'm glad you stayed." Not that you have any idea why he suddenly could, after months of him leaving every afternoon no matter what, but that's fine. He'll tell you when he's ready. For now, you're just glad he's here, with you, leaning back against your chest.


Breakfast is not as good as it smells, but he was smiling when he passed you a plate so you don't mind. How can you be upset when Perry the Platypus went to all that effort for you?

He leaves afterwards, as usual, and that's fine because you need to get started on your next scheme anyway: finding a platypus-sized apron for him to wear. Or making one. You have enough fabric lying around, why not?


One offscreen montage later, he's walking back in, well-groomed and, you have to assume, well-caffeinated. You can tell because he looks stern. Like a proper secret agent, because he is, and you still don't know why he bothers with you but you'll take it.

Just like he takes the apron you made, when you thrust it at him, bouncing on your heels. You can't help it, you're excited to see his face when he sees what you made for him.

Unfolding it, he holds it out in front of him, eyebrow raised like he's not sure what he's looking at.

"Do you like it?" You spent ages coming up with the image on the front. I don't just beat evil, and a cracked egg with the yolk leaking out. You're proud of that one. "I made it just for-"

That's when he punches you to the floor. Apparently he doesn't like it after all, even with all the effort you put in. Rude. That's what he is, rude and ungrateful. Throwing the apron on top of you, he kicks the self-destruct button you couldn't help but add, then leaves while you're waving away the smoke.

You cough, eyes watering as you squint at the vague shape of him. "Perry the Platypus? Perry the Platypus, come back here! At least tell me you're coming back."

No reply.


The thing that breaks you free of the funk you've been in is the sound of voices outside your door. Voice, singular. A teenage girl? You press your ear to the wall, in case she's one of Vanessa's friends.

"-All I'm saying is, you said he never thinks things through, so he probably didn't even mean it like that. Now, are you going to knock, or am I?"

It's followed by a familiar knock, so you scramble for the door, opening it to find-

"Perry the Platypus, you came back!" You were almost starting to think he wouldn't, but there he is, with a shopping bag in his little paw, and a teenage girl you swear you've seen before. Dark hair, a blue bow... You stare at her face, in case you're supposed to recognise her. "You and your... friend... can come in."

He walks in, but the girl stays where she is, holding up her hands. "No way, I only agreed to help Perry go shopping, I'm not being a third wheel. I get enough of that with-" She pauses, glancing at Perry. "-another friend."

That doesn't explain anything. "Who are you, anyway? One of Vanessa's friends?" You can't keep track of them all. "And how do you know my nemesis?"

"I'm Stacy. Perry's staying with me while his family are on holiday."

"They went on holiday without you?" you say to your boyfriend. "Wow, and I thought I was unwanted. Some family you've got there."

Perry the Platypus snarls, and the girl - Stacy, apparently - grabs him by the shoulders before he punches you. "He couldn't get a day off. Something about having an evil scientist to fight," she says, pointedly. "I hope you're happy."

Wow. Low blow.

While you're trying to come up with a response to that, she turns Perry around to face her. "You can handle this from here, right? Of course you can, gotta go, bye!"

Perry the Platypus blinks at the space where she was, then runs out the door to gesture frantically at her.

"Don't look at me like that, he's your boyfriend," she calls. "Talk to him."

Shoulders slumping, Perry the Platypus walks back in and closes the door behind him. He stays there for a few seconds, head pressed to the door, the shopping bag still clutched in his little paw, then turns and pinches the bridge of his bill instead of looking at you. Which hurts, but you're used to that. What you're not used to is the rest of it.

"What was that all about?" you have to ask, because you have no idea. All you know is that he came back. "I still don't know how you know her, or-"

He reaches into the bag, pulling out an apron-

So he was listening when you suggested it. Not that you thought he wasn't listening, he always pays attention to your monologues, but you're not used to anyone agreeing with you. "Really?" you mumble, wiping an imaginary tear. "You did that for me?" And here you thought you'd made a mistake in insisting, because other people have left you for less.

Nodding, he flips the top loop over his head, bending forward to tie the other strings behind his back. When he straightens, you get your first look at what's actually printed on the apron.

Nipples.

"Are you making fun of me?" you say, folding your arms. "You are, aren't you?" After all, you were the one that brought up the whole nipple thing, but you never thought he'd actually go and get some. And some chest hair. Not that he didn't already have chest hair, he's a platypus, but this is different. It's human chest hair, for one thing. More than you have. The whole thing is just a human chest, a handsome one, because you didn't feel inadequate enough apparently.

He rolls his eyes, nodding again. Which stings, but then he steps forward and pulls your arms down, wrapping his little hands around your fingers. The smile he's giving you has your stomach doing flips - of course it does, that's why he does it - and you can't bring yourself to complain.

Hard to be upset when you have your handsome boyfriend standing in front of you in just an apron and nothing else. Not for much longer, if you have anything to say about it, your hands itching to peel it off him.

Grinning at the thought, you squeeze his fingers. "Does this mean you're not mad at me any more?"

All he does is sigh. Letting one of your hands fall, he leads you to the kitchen by the other, so you can see exactly how naked he is underneath the apron: very. He's very naked below the apron. Then he pushes you into a chair and digs out the bacon he didn't cook this morning, and everything comes full circle.


AN: I'll probably be slowing down a little, at this rate, nearly caught up with all the Perryshmirtz fics I've posted on ao3 (that were long and/or T-and-under and/or standalone enough).