It started rather simply when they landed. Heinz chose July first, 1969, which gives them a rather slim margin of time to get to the moon before the artifact arrives on the third. Something about the longer the artifact sits in a new dimension, the less powerful it is- good thing they build quickly. Perry's not exactly sure how that all works, but he's not here to get involved in the science-y parts of this dimensional mess.
He's just here to build things, and also go to space. Space is cool.
Anyway, it's a good thing they landed in a very inconspicuous place for a refrigerator. They've touched down in the back of an appliance storeroom, in a dark corner with a few other very dusty appliances that look like they haven't been touched in years. That should mean their time machine is safe for a while.
Getting out of the appliance warehouse was rather easy- just leaving out the back door when nobody was looking. Perry isn't quite sure of the state of security cameras in the late sixties- but they can't be that good.
Hell, they aren't even any good now. Half the footage he ever has to look over for work (especially from any local law enforcement) is grainy as hell.
The point is, they had no trouble leaving the appliance warehouse to discover that they are in the middle of a rather large, oddly abandoned (especially considering it's the middle of the day) industrial district- with an enormous junkyard just over the horizon.
Heinz practically lit up when Perry descended from the roof of the warehouse (yay for grappling hooks!) with his findings.
"I built my first prosthetic arm from junkyard scraps," he proudly proclaimed as they got to work. "And that was when I was nine. I can get us to the moon, no problem."
That doesn't exactly make Perry feel any better. Heinz has shown him pictures of that arm- it's not exactly pretty.
Then again, he has made some pretty impressive things out of nothing before. And he's also improved his building since he was nine years old. Heck, even in the past year. Finicky scientific instruments are no joke- he sure earned that Newton award.
So Perry is willing to trust him with their rocketry. As long as Heinz doesn't add a self-destruct button to their rocket. It's unfortunately likely- case in point, the self-destruct in the dimensional car that very nearly separated them both forever.
What a hell of a day that was. The stress of rebuilding an entire -inator, on a time crunch, while trying to ignore the way Heinz had abruptly confessed his feelings at the worst time possible- it's safe to say Perry is in no hurry to repeat it.
At least now he knows how Heinz feels about him. He smiles. There aren't the nervous butterflies of a crush that rush to his stomach when he thinks about that- instead, they've been replaced with a nice warm feeling. The comforting feeling of being in love.
Perry sighs a little. Before he left, he made sure to slip the engagement ring into his hat, thinking that an opportunity to propose might arise. Obviously, with them being in the sixties, it wouldn't be a big thing. But a guy can daydream, right?
Usually, he doesn't allow himself to daydream. It tends to be a distraction, and in his line of work, distractions are deadly. But right now, in the oppressive July heat as he rivets yet another piece of metal together, he can let his mind drift from the monotony. Just a little bit.
Yeah, it's good to be in love.
He sighs again. He's getting to be such a sentimental sap. Not like that's a bad thing, but...him? The secret agent with a reputation for having (as Peter once put it) "a punch that feels like being hit with a brick, and the emotional range to match"?
Well, it had to happen lines between work and home had been blurred for a long time, and the walls were starting to fall. He told Candace about his job as a secret agent when she turned eighteen, although he still hasn't told the boys. It'll be a few years still for them.
That conversation with Candace had honestly gone a lot better than he thought it would. She hadn't been too surprised ("you do kind of have too many scars to just do paperwork all day"), although she had been intrigued with the evil-busting part of Perry's career.
Perry had gently steered her towards being a lawyer instead ("busting, without the bruises"), and now she's about to go into her second year of her political science major at Tri-State State.
Still, telling Candace about his real job had pretty much ended the separation of work and home for good. It had been a long time coming (one could argue that him moving in with Heinz a year or so after their first dimensional mishap was the real catalyst, but who knows), and it's made things much better all around.
He's pretty sure the boys have figured out his real career by now, anyway. They're smart kids, and they did wind up in Perry's base that one time a couple of years ago.
The rivet gun in his hand makes a strange noise, and he snaps back to the present. Is it broken? He touches the side of it, instantly recoiling his hand when his finger makes contact. Yep, like he suspected, it just overheated.
He sets it aside and looks up...and up, and up. Heinz has constructed some truly impressive scaffolding, already working on the framework of their rocketship. He leans over the edge and waves. Perry waves back with a smile.
"Would you get the blueprint out of my lab coat, please?" he calls down, and Perry holds up a thumbs-up.
Heinz had shed his lab coat as soon as they started building, and his sleeveless turtleneck not long after that. (The view is fabulous, by the way, but that's not the point.) Perry goes to the impromptu workbench they've set up, where the lab coat is laying over the table.
Perry rifles through the pockets, producing a blueprint that's definitely too big to have fit in there without his pockets having the same properties as his hat.
That, or it was folded by his nephew, who somehow can fit a map the size of a small office building in the front pocket of his absurdly high waisted pants. But given that Ferb isn't around right now (hopefully), Perry can only assume that Heinz has been figuring out how his fedora works.
It's not like Perry minds. Heinz isn't evil anymore, what's the harm in him experimenting?
Speaking of evil, the blueprint proudly states, in Heinz's messy scrawl, To-The-Moon-Inator, complete with three exclamation marks. There's a happy face with a broad grin right next to the word -Inator, and Perry can't help but smile.
"I think," Heinz says from behind Perry, causing him to startle, "since we're in the past, OWCA's -inator alarm won't go off, and you won't have to do any paperwork for the -inator thing."
Perry shrugs, still smiling. I hope so. He wouldn't be surprised if it did- but then again, it's just as likely that it won't. Either way, he's not going to do any paperwork for any of this mess. With the state of OWCA's technology, there's a ninety percent chance it would completely fuck up the records system. And he doesn't want to put Carl through that.
Is OWCA even operational yet at this point in time? It might be- it was either started in 1968 or 1969, Perry can't remember. There's a plaque in the foyer of headquarters that has the exact date on it, but Perry has walked by it so many times it may as well just be another part of the wall.
I'll even let you be a little evil, Perry signs, and since there's nobody else around, he leans up to press a soft kiss to Heinz's cheek.
Heinz hunches over a little to Perry's level to press their foreheads together. "No, I- I'm not doing that again." His hand traces over one of the scars on Perry's bicep. "Not after what happened."
Perry shrugs, then pulls Heinz down a little further to kiss him for real. Even after a couple of years, the reminder of the accident is still painful, for the both of them. (Thankfully not literally, most of the time.)
When they part, Heinz's gaze is tender.
"I'm past the whole evil thing," he says. "There's better ways to get to the dark side of the moon."
Perry snickers, remembering the one -inator where Heinz just simply rotated the moon- and didn't realize that the dark side of the moon in fact did not come around to the front.
I trust you, Perry signs.
"Thank you, Perry the Platypus. That- that means a lot to me."
Words are hard, so Perry leans forwards into Heinz's arms, pressing the sign for love into his partner's side.
"You know, this can't be comfortable," Heinz says into Perry's hair, toying with his sleeve.
Perry shrugs. He's dealt with heat and humidity before. This isn't that bad in comparison. You just want to see me shirtless, he teases, leaning back to sign.
Heinz goes bright red. "Um- well, I-" he stammers. "I- maybe…"
Perry's smile grows wider. So where are we going to find rocket fuel out here? he asks, finally taking pity on Heinz.
"We're not, actually," he says with a grin. "It's going to run on electricity- solar power. Eco-friendly, and all that."
Electric cars, his jetpack is finally an electric model (no more awkward standing around at fuel stations, plus a much lower risk of burning the seat of his pants), now an electric rocket ship. Technology just keeps getting better- even when it's technically in the past.
Heinz smiles. "We should be able to finish this by tomorrow," he says.
We should probably keep working, then, Perry signs.
Heinz nods, briefly kissing Perry on the forehead before heading back up the scaffolding to work on the rocket again.
Perry picks up the rivet gun again, returning to work on the piece of hull he's putting together. It's still mind-numbing work, and the weather is still just as brutally hot, but they're going to the freaking moon on a solar powered rocket.
...And depending on how soon they get this rocket done, they might actually be the first people on the moon. It's early July, so who knows? It really depends on the date Neil Armstrong first stepped on the moon- and that's not exactly something Perry knows offhand.
Yeah, sure, he knows the correct dosage of strychnine to poison somebody (and make it look like an accident), but he doesn't know the date the first man landed on the moon.
The things one picks up as a secret agent.
Speaking of things one picks up as a secret agent, something doesn't feel quite right. Call it paranoia, call it literal decades of being professionally suspicious, but something tells him they're being watched.
He fakes another rivet gun overheating episode to take a chance to look around.
There, crouched next to a car that's clearly seen better days, judging by the paint job that's more rust than blue. A completely obvious agent- trench coat and all.
Perry almost laughs at how easy the agent was to spot. In this weather, that trench coat stands out like a sore thumb.
Of course, this obvious dude is probably a decoy. Nobody is that stupid, right? His suspicious nature spurs him to look around a little closer.
Yep, there's another one. Far less obvious. Probably from the same agency, too.
The what and the why of these agent's presence are easy questions to answer. Big fucking spaceship.
The who is a bit less obvious. CIA, FBI, KGB, OWCA (maybe), it's a veritable alphabet soup of possibilities, each worse than the last.
Perry shakes his head, turning back to his work. When he signed the paperwork to become an agent, he had some ideas about what it would be like. But none of them even came close to the actual truth- tons of paperwork, all caused by the most batshit-crazy adventures of his life.
And there's no way he's doing paperwork for this one, so he might as well hold on for the ride.