*Throws this maliciously on the interrogation table I have you handcuffed to* I think we've had a long enough fluff streak for this AU.

Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and violence.

Viva La on with the Story!

Perry knew this would happen eventually.

Even if he tried to push the thought down, deep, deep into the crevices in his mind. Some childish part of him that he rarely listened to these days kept promising him that if he didn't give the idea the time of day, then it would never need to be attended to.

And look where that got him, sneaking back into the house at three AM and praying that he was able to clean up the trail of blood he left before Linda and Lawrence woke to make breakfast.

At least he'd been able to tell them he'd been given a special mission this time. He had to take the liberties where he could get them, because Perry knew from experience that Phineas would have stayed up all night worried sick.

He really took Heinz for granted, sometimes. The mission had been a success – obviously it had been a success, because Perry wouldn't have allowed himself to leave otherwise – but he now had a bullet wound grazing his thigh to show for it.

The agent couldn't help the pained gasp that left him as he stumbled into the counter, and alarm bells shot through him at the effort it took for him to remember where the first aid kit was.

The one he needed was in his lair, but he didn't think he could stomach any of the entrances to it. He'd puke at best and faint at worst.

So that left two options: the one in the upstairs bathroom, which sent Perry's head reeling at the prospect, or the one that rested in the craft drawer at the computer desk.

Pressing his paw back against the gouge mark, Perry forced himself back up and began limping towards the second option.

His heart was pounding so frantically, it almost hurt. His lungs never seemed to hold enough oxygen, and his vision was swimming as a result of both.

Perry only realized that he'd stumbled across the carpet after the deed had been done, and though he knew he should feel guilty, nothing really mattered to him at that moment more than stopping the bleeding. The tourniquet he'd tied was doing its job, but he could already feel pins-and-needles in his feet, and he knew it needed to come off as soon as possible.

He didn't even try to move away from the desk once the first aid kit was out of its drawer. It was like his body had taken one look at it, decided that its job was done, and shut down. Perry fell back against the wall with a bit of a clatter, and a spasm of pain wracked his leg as he sank to the floor.

He gave himself a moment to writhe in pain, but only a moment.

Once the biting pain returned to the stagnant kind, the agent turned to crack open the first aid kit.

He pulled out the wretched materials he was much too familiar with, a grimace on his face.

Perry had never liked the smell of alcohol. Never enjoyed the taste of it, either, but that was a story for a different time and place. Still, it was a much more welcome scent than the coppery one that had plagued his mouth for the better part of an hour.

Perhaps a more reasonable person would steel themselves before pouring rubbing alcohol directly on a wound, but Perry had learned from many similar nights that treating this part of wound prep to ripping off a bandage saved time in the long run.

He peeled off the already-soaked gauze that came from his in-field emergency kit and cringed as it dropped to the floor with a squelch. The agent preemptively bit onto his free forearm as he tilted the bottle, stifling a pained squeak as the alcohol hit his flesh and lit his nerves with fire.

Perry took a couple deep breaths once the pain subsided, dropping the still-uncapped bottle to pick up more gauze and dab at the wound.

How fucked up was it that he was thankful? The bullet had only grazed him, so he wouldn't have to dig this one out. He had experience with that particular situation before, mind you, and one time was more than enough for him.

It was almost difficult to grab and then rip open the plastic protecting the suture needle with how much Perry was shaking now. He had to rest his wrists on his knees to steady them enough for him to thread the needle. And even then it took a few tries.

He swallowed thickly as he twisted, and his hands almost didn't want to obey as he pressed the edges of the wound to stabilize it.

A couple forceful breaths left his beak as he hyped himself up, and then Perry plunged the needle into his skin.

The process was slow. He had to sterilize the needle every time it left him, and that wasn't including the times he had to stop to force down the nausea creeping up his throat.

He'd never get used to this. Maybe he should have just sucked up and done the paperwork he would have been given had he gone back to HQ.

Another whimper escaped him as he finished the fourth stitch, and Perry was preparing to start the fifth when the lights came on.

He flinched aggressively, and the needle fell out of his grip. Both of these actions angered the wound, and Perry found himself freezing to wait out another wave of pain.

When he managed to crack his eyes open again, Lawrence was standing at the bottom of the stairs, squinting in alarm at the bloody trail Perry had left.

Fuck.

It didn't take long for the brit to find him. In fact, Perry would have been rather concerned if it had, because those blood droplets were like a bread crumb trail made of shining rubies under the overhead lights.

Not that he had the energy to be concerned. All Perry really wanted to do was get this over with and then fall into a deep, deep sleep.

And also, his family was kind of the last people he wanted to see right now. Now that he thought about it, Pinky probably wouldn't have minded stitching him up. But it was too late for that, and it was beside the point anyway.

He supposed he'd rather it be one of the adults as opposed to the kids.

"Oh…" was all Lawrence managed to crack out after a minute of awkward staring.

Perry's head thunked against the wall, and he sighed in exhaustion as the brit padded closer.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but I think I know the answer," Lawrence's voice was already quiet and laced with sleepiness, and for that Perry was oddly grateful.

A scowl made its way across the agent's face even though he tried to force it back. He didn't trust himself to sign anything back. He was still rather shocked to have woken anyone up at this hour. He could have sworn he was quiet enough. And also, embarrassment was blossoming in his chest that was nearly as unbearable as the pain in his thigh.

Perry was tongue-tied, which was not something that typically happened to someone of few words.

Lawrence didn't seem to be bothered by his silence, instead he gestured skittishly towards the half-stitched injury. "Can I ask what happened?"

He could, but Perry didn't know if he'd want to hear the answer. If it were his kids, the agent had a feeling he would break his "only-the-truth" rule to spare them.

But he was so tired. He didn't have the energy to wave the man off.

Bullet, he managed to sign, and his paw clammered for the needle once again.

It wouldn't hold. It kept weaseling its way out of his grip, so Perry stopped before he embarrassed himself any further.

Lawrence must have seen the resignation on his face. "Does this happen often?"

Probably more than it should, but no. It didn't happen often. Perry didn't know how to say that to the man, so he kept still.

He hadn't realized he'd been nodding off until Lawrence waved a frantic hand in front of him. Perry shot up, blinking rapidly, and then instantly regretted it with a groan.

He pressed his paw against his forehead and tried to sign an apology, but he wasn't so sure it came across.

"Okay," Lawrence spoke, voice suddenly a lot more concerned, "come on, let's get you fixed up."

He was doing a pretty good job at faking nonchalance – Perry presumed that the lingering sleepiness had something to do with it – but the smell of concern that filled the air was suddenly overwhelming. The agent didn't know whether to be touched or not.

Perry also wanted to protest. Key word, wanted. Even back in his days as a trainee, his bunkmates had called him stubborn.

But his foot had gone numb at this point. The edges of his vision were darkening, and if Perry was honest with himself it was hard to just…sit up at this point.

You'd better not take me to the goddamn vet, Lawrence. He slurred through the signs.

The man managed a laugh, which was more than Perry could say at the moment. It was a slightly nervous one, but it was a laugh nonetheless. "I suppose you wouldn't appreciate that." Lawrence admitted, "Lucky for you, I've had my fair share of injuries that needed to be patched up. Did I ever tell you about the time I caught Big Mouth Ramon?"

Perry's head fell back against the wall with a much more gentle thump. He shook his head.

He caught Lawrence's smile out of the corner of his eye, and only closed them when the man picked up the needle and began his long-winded introduction to the story.

Perry woke late that next morning to the sound of Linda on the phone in the kitchen and when he turned, he found that the floor was clear of any sign of blood.

Ya girls got a job now, settling into Montana living pretty well!

Listen I just…I love Lawrence. He's such a softy. He's so well-meaning. And he's got the WILDEST stories in the entire series. I still want to know how he caught Big Mouth Ramone.

Y'all frequent readers know the drill. I pick a vine/ tiktok to quote at the end of every chapter/fanfic I write. They have nothing to do with the story, I just like to put them in.

"As a queer person who grew up in the south, I always thought I might be safer if I moved to the tri-state area. And that's why, for this pride month, I'm partnering with Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated –" user "somayamusic" on tiktok

Thanks for reading, my lovelies! Check out some of my other stuff if you'd like!

~Local Dragon Haunt