I do not own Phineas and Ferb.


At All Hours

Darkness engulfed the suburban streets of Danville, pitch-black swaths disrupted by the artificial white glow of the streetlights lining the curb. Occasionally the white was soiled by a yellow tint, a consequence of a bulb left unreplaced for years. The air was still and the streets were mostly calm, with a lone car churning down the asphalt now and then.

Perry trudged down the sidewalk, his vision blurred and agony seeping bone-deep through his limbs. Each step caused him to wince, his muscles screaming at him to just stop and take a breather. But it was late, he was exhausted, and he wanted to be home twenty minutes ago.

He came to a corner and he squinted up at the street sign. He groaned in frustration when he realized he was still several blocks away from home. He shifted his gaze down the shadowy road, knowing there were a couple of secret entrances that would be able to whisk him straight to his lair.

He grimaced at the thought of his already battered body zipping through a glass tube. Not yet that desperate to endure the white-hot pain that would most definitely be caused by the breakneck speed and sharp turns of the O.W.C.A. underground elevator system, he continued with his measured, ginger steps.

He was halfway down the block when the desperation reached its peak, much to his annoyance. He collapsed to the middle of the sidewalk with a rush of breath, tenderly setting his paw against a massive bruise on his left side. He was certain no bones were fractured or broken, and the act of breathing wasn't painful, and the blood was still in his body, so he counted himself lucky.

Perry's eyes narrowed. I am going to kick his ass tomorrow.

If he was willing to be fair, and right now he wasn't, his current state wasn't because of his nemesis. The fight itself had gone off without a hitch. But Perry had miscalculated the force of the -Inator's explosion and put himself right in the path of the debris.

Doofenshmirtz had awkwardly offered to call Perry a cab, but the platypus merely glowered and hobbled out of the penthouse without another sound. He had attempted to fly home, but the pain roaring through his body made his vision fade at the edges, so he promptly landed and began the tedious trek for Maple Drive.

Perry rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his paws. He reluctantly stood up, grunting as the pain rolled and twisted with his motions. Exhausted, he looked up and down the block, checking his surroundings, and his gaze froze on a very familiar home.

He was at Stacy's.

For a brief moment, the yellow ranch house, the colour dulled by the dark, filled Perry with immense relief and delight. But then he remembered it was nearly four in the morning, and he waged an internal battle with himself.

The last thing he wanted was to wake Stacy from a deep sleep, especially for a problem that had nothing to do with her. He had once fallen straight into a sandpaper factor and that had not been pleasant. Monogram had sent Carl to assist him home and that was an option Perry could utilize again—could always utilize. One message to Monogram and someone would be at his location in mere minutes.

But Perry was so freaking tired, he just wanted his kids, and alerting O.W.C.A. to the seriousness of his injuries would require a trip to the agency employed vet, which would only delay his arrival home by several more hours. He would also be required to fill out dozens of forms, and he already had enough mission reports to deal with on a daily basis.

An odd, serene sort of smile crossed his beak as he pictured a warm couch and an ice pack. He shook his head sharply to dispel the coloured images from his mind. He dug a burner phone out of his fedora, which contained only Stacy's number. He had acquired it a few days after Stacy discovered his identity as a secret agent and used it to send her a text, instructing her to contact him if she ever found herself in a dire emergency.

After sending exactly sixteen exploding head emojis and a dozen exclamation points, he received her acknowledgment in the form of a thumbs-up, followed by a, when the heck did u learn 2 text? Do u even have thumbs?

He supported his aching back against the post of a streetlamp and tapped out a quick message; Outside your house. I'm really sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I need your assistance.

He drummed his digits against his leg as he waited for a response. He had once seen Candace fire off fifty text messages in ninety seconds, so when two minutes passed without a reply, he called her, hoping her ringtone would be a bit more difficult to ignore than a text alert.

After a few beats, the teen answered. "I'm here," Stacy said, her words slurred with grogginess. "I'm here, Candace. We're going to breathe in and out, nice and slow, okay?"

It didn't surprise Perry that Stacy assumed Candace was the one calling her in the dead of the night, but he was concerned that the redhead had enough nocturnal panic attacks that this was apparently a regular thing. He made a mental note to check on his oldest throughout the night more often and gave an apologetic chatter.

"Perry?" asked Stacy incredulously. "Whu—what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Perry made a soothing noise, hoping it conveyed that he wasn't contacting her because of a life-or-death situation. "That didn't sound urgent, so I'm gonna take that as a yes," said Stacy, though she still sounded rather frazzled. "Wait—did you text me? I didn't really look at my phone, I figured it was Candace—hold on, I'm gonna hang up and check, okay?"

Perry gave a brief chatter and clicked off the line. In the next five seconds Perry received a reply, and the platypus was once again bemused by the rapid texting skills of teenagers.

Yes, absolutely, I'm coming 2 the front door now

Perry stuck the burner phone back into his fedora and hobbled up the front path. Stacy threw open the front door, bathing Perry in the light flooding in from the living room. Anxious dark eyes swept over Perry and she gasped, jumping off the stone step to reach him.

"What happened?" she asked, aghast. She dropped to her knees and her fingers hovered over the large dark bruises and shallow scratches mottling his teal fur. "Did that evil scientist do this to you?"

Perry shook his head hard, then paused and gave a shrug of his shoulders. He supposed, technically, Doofenshmirtz was responsible for this. If he hadn't built the stupid -Inator in the first place, nothing would have exploded and Perry wouldn't have been hit with heavy, pointy parts.

"Come inside," said Stacy, rising back to her full height. When Perry peeked cautiously into the brightly-lit living room, she assured, "Mom's room is in the very back of the house and Ginger sleeps like the dead. We're good."

Perry slipped over the threshold and Stacy snapped the door shut behind him. Her brow furrowed with worry as Perry groaned in agony as he hauled himself onto the couch, collapsing against the cushions. "Seriously, do I need to call an emergency vet or something?"

Again, Perry shook his head, but the low moan that left his beak did not settle Stacy's unease. She set her hands on her hips. "What the heck happened to you?"

Perry reached up, the simple motion causing more pain to ripple through his nerves. He slipped his paw under his fedora and dragged out the burner phone. Stacy tapped her bare foot against the carpet impatiently as the platypus typed out his message at what she considered to be a snail's pace.

"You text like an old person. You need practice. Start texting me more often."

He shot her a look before smacking at his screen with exaggeration. Stacy's blue cell beeped and she yanked it out of the waistband of her aqua pajama pants.

My nemesis' -Inator exploded and I didn't get myself out of the line of fire fast enough. Got smacked by debris. I really am sorry I woke you up. Usually, I make it home fine after a fight.

"I don't care that you woke me up," huffed Stacy, glaring at Perry. "I'm glad you did. You shouldn't have been trying to get home like this. Didn't your evil scientist—what's his name, Doolensmuck—offer to help you?"

He offered to call me a cab, but that wasn't happening, for obvious reasons.

Perry pointedly didn't correct her on Doofenshmirtz's name, and the teen didn't pick up on it. "Right," muttered Stacy. "The whole relocation and memory-erasing thing. Okay, well, what about your boss? Can you call him for help?"

Perry chattered sheepishly as he typed out his reply. I could, and I suppose I should have. But he would make me go to the agency vet, and then I'd have to fill out a ton of paperwork. I just want to get a little rest and then go home.

Stacy's expression softened. "I can definitely help with that. What do you need?"

Perry mimed drinking some water and Stacy saluted him, dashing into the kitchen. Perry set the burner phone aside and took a few deep breaths, trying to remove his attention from the pulsing agony that afflicted him.

"Here you go," said Stacy, returning with a bowl of water. When Perry's beak quirked in amusement, it took a second for the teen to realize that Perry didn't necessarily need to eat and drink like the average animal. "Ooh. You'd probably prefer a glass, huh? My bad, still not quite used to this whole…sentient pet thing. I'll go—"

Perry cut her off with a chatter, waving her over. He was perfectly fine with a bowl, and frankly in this moment he would drink out of anything she'd give him. She handed him the green plastic bowl and he gulped it down greedily, the cold liquid refreshing against his dry throat.

"You want some more?" asked Stacy when he finished. When he shook his head, she took the bowl from him and set it on the table. "Let's see what we can do about those injuries."

Perry tried to protest, raising his paws, but Stacy stared at him firmly. "You can't go back to the Flynn-Fletchers like this. They'll freak, especially the boys." He faltered at that and Stacy nodded. "That's what I thought. I'll be right back."

She darted down the hall and into the bathroom. She looked at her expression in the mirror and her breath shuddered out of her. Her fingers started to tremble and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Relax, Stacy," she whispered. "It's just like you tell Candace. In and out, slowly. Perry's fine. Just banged up."

When Perry's secret had been revealed to her, she hadn't thought his job was dangerous. Though she only shared a few brief interactions with the man that looked like a pharmacist, he hadn't seemed menacing in the slightest. He appeared to be goofy, and friendly, and he had spoken to her with ease and, honestly, quite a bit of cheer.

But now that Perry had come to her, clearly in so much pain, it scared her. What if something happened to him? What if, one day, he never went back to the Flynn-Fletchers? Would Perry's boss tell the family what had befallen the agent? She doubted it, given by how quickly they seemed ready to relocate their agents with no regard to their feelings or the feelings of their host families.

It would be left to her. The secrets Perry carried would be hers. She would have to tell her best friend and her family what might have caused their beloved platypus not to return to them.

Her chest clenched and Stacy forced herself to take a deep breath. "You're spiralling," she said in a controlled voice. "Knock it off. Perry. Is. Fine."

She grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard under the sink and retrieved a clean wash cloth from the wooden shelf behind her. She soaked the cloth in cold water and brought the supplies to Perry. She must have still appeared to be shaken, for Perry regarded her with concern. He lightly touched her wrist when she sat beside him and she cleared her throat.

"I'm fine. Sorry." He narrowed his eyes at her, the determination in his gaze indicating he wasn't about the drop the matter. "I'll tell you later, after we clean you up a bit." She extended the supplies. "Um, would you like my help, or…?"

Given that Perry could barely raise his arms without a tiny piece of him dying inside, he nodded. Stacy carefully swiped the cold cloth over his body and Perry closed his eyes against the soothing sensation. When she had cleared most of the dirt and grime from his fur, Stacy dug out the bandages, swabs and small bottle of disinfectant.

"Uh, is this, like, safe for animals?" she asked, holding it out to Perry. He studied the label and the ingredients intently for a moment before giving a thumbs-up. "Cool," she said in relief. She tipped some of the disinfectant onto a swab and gently started to spread the clear liquid over the shallow cuts.

Perry fought back a wince at the stinging sensation that shivered through his nerves. He let out a hiss of discomfort and Stacy laughed. He shot her an offended glare and she clamped her lips together. "Sorry! Sorry. I know this part sucks. It's just…I've never heard you make a noise other than krkrkrkrk."

Her poor imitation made Perry grin. She stuck her tongue out. "Shut up, only Phineas and Ferb can replicate your sound without looking like an idiot."

She fell silent, focussing at the task at hand, and Perry watched as her eyes narrowed with concentration. He felt a pang in his heart, a longing to be able to share these sorts of moments with his boys, to be able to pester Candace through text. But he closed his eyes briefly and swallowed back the lump in his throat, knowing lingering too long in such wishful thoughts would leave him incredibly sad.

"There," said Stacy at last, leaning back and studying her handiwork. "How's that?"

Perry glanced down at the bandages wrapped securely over his cuts. He looked a bit like a mummy, but he appreciated the effort, and he chattered gratefully. She smiled. "No prob."

The platypus sat up, groaning as his limbs protested the movement. The smile fell from Stacy's face. "I wish I had some pet painkillers to give you."

Perry quickly waved his hand in a dismissive motion and smiled reassuringly at the teen. Stacy tried to return it, but it was weak, and her dark eyes were troubled. Having not forgotten how scared the teen had looked when she returned with the first aid kit, Perry gently set his paw against her hand.

His eyes were probing, and it unsettled Stacy a bit. She was so used to his blank stare it was still jarring to see intelligence sparkling behind his irises. "I'm fine, really. I just…got a little freaked out there for a second."

Perry bowed his head in guilt. Anger flared in his gut, hot and burning, and he cursed himself for thinking it was a good idea to involve a fifteen-year-old in his affairs. Before he could apologize, her hands gripped his shoulders, and he looked up in surprise.

"Don't be sorry," she said fiercely. "I should have figured getting hurt was part of the deal. I'll always be happy to help you, Perry. I just…I just started to think, what if something really serious happened to you? The Flynn-Fletchers would be devastated, and I couldn't…I couldn't let them live with the unknown. I would have to tell them, and I don't…" Tears suddenly blurred her eyes and she gave a hard sniff. "I don't want that responsibility," she finished softly.

Perry's paws clasped against her cheeks, and Stacy blinked through her tears. Her breath caught in her throat at the fire in his eyes. Maintaining eye contact, Perry seized his burner phone and frantically typed out a message. When Stacy's phone trilled, she tore her gaze away from the intense platypus to peer at the screen.

That is NOT your responsibility. I never, ever would expect that of you. I have plans already set should something happen to me in the field. I had to see my kids suffer when Monogram tried to relocate me earlier this summer, and I will never put them through that again. If I have to leave them, and it will not be by choice, they will know why, Monogram be damned.

Stacy sighed with relief, feeling the weight of the world rise from her shoulders with that one breath. She scrubbed at her eyes. "Okay. Okay, that's…okay." She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I became really selfish there for a second."

Perry shook his head hard, his beak twisted with unease, his digits quickly tapping out another text.

I don't want this secret to be a burden for you. The memory-erasing option is always open, if you find it be too much. Don't worry about Monogram—I'll work something out.

"No!" shouted Stacy. Perry jumped back in shock and the teen cast a quick look down the hall, ensuring she hadn't disturbed her mother or sister. "No," she said, in a lower tone but with no less force. "If this secret is a burden on anyone, it's you."

Perry's throat tightened.

"I can't begin to imagine how hard it must be for you some days," continued Stacy. "To have to pretend to be this mindless pet when…when there's so much more you could be doing with them. So, yeah, sometimes I freak myself out over the fact you're a secret agent. But I don't want to forget it. Not ever. Now…now you're not alone."

Perry made a strangled noise.

He wasn't alone.

"I may not love you like Candace and the boys," said Stacy awkwardly, rubbing her arm. "But that doesn't mean I don't care about you, y'know? And now that I know who you really are, it makes all the stuff you did for me in the past that much more meaningful. You didn't have to let Candace and I dress you up and make little movies. And on my very first sleepover at your place, and I was super homesick, you chose to sleep with me, to try and make me feel better." Her eyes misted. "I want to help you, Perry, in as much as I can. So whenever you're in trouble, text me. I don't care what time it is. You text me, and I'll come running."

She hesitantly opened her arms and Perry dropped his phone to walk into her embrace. He squeezed her, burying his head against her shoulder, and gave a choked chatter. "You're welcome," whispered Stacy, stroking his fingers down his back.

They separated and Stacy let out a tired sigh. "Okay, that's enough emotion for one night—or morning. I'll bring you home and—"

Perry growled, cutting her off, pointing at the butterfly-engraved clock hanging on the wall. It was almost four-thirty in the morning, and he was not letting her traverse home all by herself in the dark.

"You're literally just a few blocks away," Stacy said, rolling her eyes. "I can text you when I'm back home."

Perry's eyes narrowed into slits. Stacy set her hands on her hips. "You said you just want to be home, and I'm not letting you walk there by yourself," she said stubbornly. "You're still hurt, and I don't care how capable you are."

For a long moment, they engaged in a stare-down. When Perry refused to falter, Stacy huffed out a breath. "Look, we're gonna have to compromise. How about you try to rest here for a couple of hours, and when the first light breaks, I'll bring you home."

Perry's posture eased as he contemplated the idea. Though it was a good one, there was a slight problem.

My house is rigged with cameras, to make sure my family is safe, and also to make sure my cover isn't blown. If my boss catches you dropping me off at six-thirty in the morning, it might raise suspicions.

Stacy hummed. "Well…will they be suspicious if Candace comes and picks you up?"

Perry shook his head, but it was a hesitant motion. "It'll probably be better for the boys if you're there before they wake up," Stacy said gently.

The platypus' eyes sharpened, and Stacy knew the last thing in the world Perry wanted was to make Phineas and Ferb worry more than they needed to. She mentally patted herself on the back for delivering a concrete argument.

"Cool. So how about I find you an ice pack, and we'll crash in my room for a couple of hours?"

With a fond smile, Perry nodded, and Stacy grinned. "Awesome. But if you make my sheets smell funny, you're gonna have to come back and clean them."

Perry's expression morphed into one of offense and he grabbed the nearest cushion. Stacy sprinted into the kitchen with a cackle, avoiding the feather-filled projectile, and warmth bubbled in Perry's chest.

I'm lucky to have you, Stace.