AN: At last we're at the last of my backlog, "It's A Walk In The Park To Trust Your Nemesis". From here on out, you peeps'll be beholden to the whims of my muse, probably. Assuming I remember to crosspost.
Sleep eludes you tonight. You stretch, not for the first time, your eyes squeezed shut, and jump off the bed to climb up on the other one. Maybe this time your thoughts will stop racing. Settling in, it's all you can do to hold to your cover, just in case one of them wakes up and sees you. The last thing you want is to break cover.
Keeping an entire half of your life secret from them is getting harder every day. But, OWCA's orders.
Giving up on sleep, you slip off the bed again, landing only on your hindpaws. You can't be their pet right now. All you can do is make your way to the door, off-duty fedora firmly in place, hesitating by the threshold to steal one last glimpse before you leave.
Then you're gone, dropping your watches down the nearest chute to your lair. You'll be back by morning.
The park's a fair distance away, and you're glad, not wanting any chance of being found before you're ready. Every second of every day, someone's laid claim to you or your time. Night's the only time you get for yourself. Away from your family where you're always on alert, away from your superiors who are surely in bed at this hour and can't send you on missions without your watches, away from your nemesis and the schedule you keep for his sake.
Darkness covers the empty fields like a blanket, and you breathe in the cold night air, lungs aching from it. You cling to that ache, eyes stinging. Pain's how you know you're alive. When nothing else makes sense, at least you have this.
"Perry the Platypus?"
Turning, you come face to face with your nemesis, in his usual clothes, more dishevelled even than he was when you left him well and truly thwarted this afternoon. Has he slept at all? Not that you're one to talk, exhaustion tugging at the edge of your mind.
He folds his arms, glaring. "Did your Agency send you? You can tell them I'm not doing anything, I just needed some air. You'll get your scheme tomorrow-"
Gritting your teeth, you rub at your temples while he's monologuing at you. Does he have to do this right now? You're not here to fight, you're here to get away from the expectations everyone has on you, including him.
"That's not why you're here, is it?" he says quietly, barely a question at all. "Let me guess, you couldn't sleep either, huh?"
Letting out a breath, you shake your head, too exhausted to pretend otherwise. He's not wrong. Sure, telling him that might not be your best idea, but you can't bring yourself to care right now. There's no scheme to thwart, no orders to follow, just you and him and the weight of something in the cold night air.
A breeze drifts through the trees at the park edge and under your fur. At its bite, you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself for what little warmth you can find.
He clears his throat. "Would you like something warmer, Perry the Platypus? Like my lab coat. Here," he says, dropping it around your shoulders, and you look up at him in shock. "What? Just because you're my nemesis doesn't mean I'll let you catch a cold."
Pulling the thick fabric around you, you inhale, breathing in your nemesis's familiar scent. Is he always like this when you're not thwarting him?
"So," he says, with a shiver of his own, the thin black turtleneck he wears barely any protection. "Do you want to talk about it? I don't mean to pry but monologuing always helps me with my backstories, so I thought- Or are you hurt? I know I hit you pretty hard today-" Stopping suddenly, he frowns into the distance. "-yesterday, technically, but the point is, you don't look so great."
Does he always care so much?
Cursing yourself, you blink back tears before he has a chance to see them, determined not to show any more weakness than you already have. Not because he'd take advantage of any crack in your armour, but because he won't. If there's one thing that's become clear over the course of your nemesisship, it's that he's come to rely on your strength, and you don't dare give him any reason to question that.
The entire problem is that you can't talk about it, even with him. You can't afford to be open. Even just telling him you're a pet would be a security risk, with how much he talks, and you can't afford to lose-
"Are- are you crying? Did I say something wrong? I did, didn't I? Dummkopf, I knew I shouldn't have-"
You cut him off with a growl, scrubbing the tears away. Sometimes you hate how easily he can see through you. You're so used to hiding everything, from your intelligence to your feelings to your job to your injuries, that his understanding of you in these moments is agonising, you're too exposed and vulnerable around him.
How a man so perceptive can somehow still fail to recognise you without your OWCA fedora, you have no idea. It's not like you stop being a platypus.
Wringing his hands together, he rocks on his heels, looking everywhere but at you. "I really do feel bad about this, you know," he babbles, faster than usual, the words just about tripping on each other to get out, "and I don't mean in the Evil way, just- do you want a hug? Would that help? I know you prefer your personal space - I mean, except for the part where you hit me, that's up close and personal - which is why I'm only offering! No pressure!"
Ridiculous man. You slump against his leg with a groan, too weary to prop yourself up any longer, having to trust that he, at least, won't do anything to you. After all, he hasn't so far. Not much to go on, if you're honest, but you'll take it. What other choice do you have?
His hand rests on your shoulder with a squeeze and you glance up, finding a soft smile on his face. Not a trap. You wish you could say it's comforting, but instead you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Do you want a hug, Perry the Platypus? Just punch me if you don't, I'll know what you mean." And then he's lifting you, one hand under your tail, to cradle you against his chest. "I know what I'm doing, don't worry! I've done this before. Do you feel the way I'm rocking you, like a baby? Good, huh? I mean, it always helped Vanessa when she was your size, so if you just relax, yes, like that... Isn't this so much better?"
Why does he always sound so reasonable, outside his evil schemes? Makes it so much harder to hate him the way you should. Or, more importantly, to refuse him. Instead, you've pressed your face into his shoulder, unable to hold back your tears any longer, a vulnerability you can't stop yourself from showing.
He doesn't hurt you for it. That's the biggest shock, that it's not just a scheme to lull you into a false sense of security, ready to take advantage of your weakness. He could have. Any other evil scientist would have, but not him. Not your nemesis. All he does is comfort you, murmuring quiet words just at the edge of your consciousness, holding you securely in his arms. Is this what trust feels like?
Shielded from sight, still wrapped loosely in his lab coat, you exhale, shedding the last of the roles you wear. What does it matter if you put your training aside for five minutes? It's not like you're on the clock, not this late at night.
The whole point of coming out here is that you're taking some time to yourself. Time when you're not a pet, or an agent, or a nemesis. Just Perry the Platypus.
And yet, you can't forget the clock is ticking. How much longer can you afford? Not long, so when you feel like your legs could bear your own weight again, you tap his arm and he sets you back on the ground, ready to test that theory. And they hold.
Yawning, he slips his hands into his pockets, feigning nonchalance. "I take it you're feeling better, then?"
You nod, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of his lab coat. Much better. You hadn't realised how desperately you needed the break, or that you trust him to this extent. How long has it been since you got a proper day off? Too long, surely. You still can't afford to stay any longer. Shrugging off his lab coat, you hold it up for him to take, since you shouldn't-
"Oh, no, keep it," he says, pushing your paws down. "I said I didn't want you catching a cold and I meant it. Besides, I have plenty, it's kind of my thing. Since I'm Evil and all. It's expected, you know?"
Well. It's not the worst gift you've been given. You sling it around your shoulders again, tipping your hat in thanks.
He rocks back on his heels, not even shivering as another cool breeze drifts past, the trees rustling in its wake. "So, I guess you're going now," he says. "Back to... wherever it is you go, I don't know, you've never told me. And that's fine, I don't need to know, I just- You'll be coming back tomorrow- I mean, today, for my scheme, right? I can't promise it'll be very Evil, I've just been so tired lately and nothing's working, but I'm sure you'll prefer lower stakes for once anyway so-"
As long as Major Monogram doesn't decide you're needed elsewhere, you'll be there to thwart him. That's all you can promise. But he's right, you could do with a low stakes thwarting, easy and comfortable, and just Evil enough to worry your superiors into sending you to stop him. You'd like that.
The sun's threatening to rise when you slip back inside, the lab coat already safely hidden away in your lair and your watches back on your wrists. Not quite morning.
Removing your fedora at last, you run a paw over your head with a sigh, then drop down to all fours. Time to pretend nothing at all happened tonight. Making your way to your owners' room, you find them still asleep in their beds, blissfully unaware of your disappearance. You're glad. As painful as it is to keep such a large part of your life hidden from them, you can't imagine not being in theirs, especially now that you have your nemesis to help bear the cost.
With that, you pick a bed at random and settle in with a yawn. The sun will be up soon, and with it the demands on your time, so you'll need what little sleep you can get. This time, it comes easily.
AN: Reviews, as always, appreciated.
