A/N: This was actually the first part of the fic I wrote. It (or a part of it) arose spontaneously in a Skype conversation with a good friend of mine and hasn't really changed much since then. I hope you enjoy it.
Before he knows it, the night of the banquet has arrived. His fellow agents mill around the reception hall (nice place, Perry comments to himself), chatting amongst themselves in that quiet way animals do. Most of his coworkers have opted to bring an animal friend or no guest at all. Perry is the only one who has brought his nemesis, unsurprisingly. Heinz chatters excitedly to Perry about how "I think Roger had a charity dinner here once! I tried to ruin it with a Spoiled Meat-inator, but it was actually a vegetarian event so that wasn't very successful" and "Ooh, look, there's a leeemur agent! I didn't think lemurs were native to Danville." The other animals give him a wide berth—the last time the evil scientist had been involved with the Agency, things hadn't ended well. Especially for Major Monogram's car. Perry is somewhat surprised to note that none of them confront him (except perhaps for the Duck, who gives Doofenshmirtz hateful looks whenever he passes). They watch the doctor guardedly, but seem to be forcing themselves to maintain an air of what the platypus can only identify as "reluctant respect." He thinks Heinz would be very appreciative of this, if he wasn't too busy blathering away to Perry to notice. Perry makes some cursory attempts to mingle, but hushed conversations always sputter to a stop when he approaches a group. Pinky the Chihuahua and Herman the Hedgehog are huddled in conversation and Perry has just started towards them when Pinky glances his way and nudges Herman pointedly. They grow quiet immediately. Perry forces down the stab of hurt he feels in his chest. He's always gotten on fairly well with those two, and here they are talking about him like everyone else.
The meal is delicious, though Perry is too worried and consumed with dread to properly enjoy it. Heinz has no such reservations. He babbles throughout the entire meal (Perry wishes he would stop long enough to chew, at least around other agents). The others look at his nemesis with hidden disdain, the way one might shoot glances at a friend's unruly and slobbery dog, but they continue to not verbally object to his presence. When everyone is finishing up their meal (Heinz is surreptitiously slipping hors d'oeuvres into his pockets, and shrugs sheepishly when Perry gives him an admonishing chatter), Carl elbows Monogram's shoulder and looks at him significantly, his eyes darting to Perry momentarily. Monogram takes the hint and rises from the table, unfolding a few sheets of paper that he's pulled from his pocket. He walks up onto the little stage at the back of the dining room, which is only a yard or so away from the table, and calls for quiet. The conversation dies down gradually, and Perry watches intently, suddenly seized with anxiety. Somehow he knows that this is it. This is the end.
The Major clears his throat, a fist held to his bushy mustache, and shuffles the papers he's holding. "I don't have to tell you all how unique you are," he begins, and though there's no microphone, his gruff voice carries throughout the room adequately enough. "It's as plain as the fedoras on your heads. To others, you might be a pet or a zoo fixture or a neighborhood stray, but to all of us here at the Agency you are so much more. You are employees, model citizens, and—" he glances at Perry, who jumps and starts to sweat nervously—"even friends." The platypus blinks. He wasn't expecting that. Especially after the cold way everyone has been treating him the past few weeks. Monogram carries on, glancing down at his papers before addressing the room again. "It takes a special kind of animal to fight evil," he says. "One must be able to resist the temptation to give up; to not let their moral compass become corrupted and their worldviews blurred into shades of gray. Since this Agency's inception, we've had one goal: Fight evil. And since this Agency's inception, you all have done just that. You've done your jobs. You've fought the good fight. You've been honorable, brave, clever, and resourceful. You've faced down evil with a steely glare and an iron paw." The Duck squawks. "Er, or, you know, other various appendages," Monogram amends. "You have been ruthless in your pursuit of evil, and you've done everything we've asked." Here he pauses. "You've all handled Evil the way we've asked—all of you, except one Agent."
Perry's heart stops.
Monogram says, "Agent P, Perry the Platypus, please join me here onstage." Heinz smiles at Perry obliviously from the seat next to him. He legitimately can't see why anyone would ever have a bone to pick with Perry (other than his seeming inability to use doors). The platypus feels a warm rush of affection for his nemesis that doesn't at all manage to mask the cold dread that has seized him. He gulps and walks towards the raised platform.
His heart is hammering so hard he can hear the blood rushing through his head, and every step sounds like the ticking of a massive clock, counting down to the end of his life as he knows it.
He clamors onto the stage, and takes his place next to Monogram. Monogram raises a hand, and Perry braces himself, thoughts irrational and racing wildly, ready for anything: a request for his badge, an admonishing finger, even a blow.
Instead, Monogram lays a hand on his shoulder (he has to crouch down a bit to do so) and smiles proudly at him. Perry's eyes go wide with confusion. "Agent P," Monogram says, and his voice is warm. "You have demonstrated traits I've never seen in any other agent before. Your ruthlessness is only outmatched by your mercy. Your fury can only be rivaled by your kindness. You can turn any drawback into an advantage, you can escape traps faster than one could say 'inator,' and…" He glances out at Doofenshmirtz. "You can turn a nemesis into a friend." There are murmurs in the crowd. "Not a friend to me," Monogram clarifies, his brow drawn in a scowl at the thought.
"Same to you, Fraaaancis," Heinz calls out. Some of the other animals glare at him.
"Your methods," Monogram continues, "are unusual." Perry smiles a little sheepishly. "You are a master fighter and smart as a whip, but you are also not afraid to show mercy. Your assignment to Dr. Doofenshmirtz has become what is undoubtedly the most interesting matchup in the Agency's history." Perry is glad he has fur so no one can see how much he's blushing. "I don't know how you put up with him, but you do, Agent P. You help each other, you save each other, you visit each other even on your days off, and we all knew Doofenshmirtz was going to be your Plus One before you turned in your RSVP." Quiet laughter from the audience. "In fact, we counted on it, because we thought you should both be here. You two are an example to us all, how our jobs and our moral alignment do not have to interfere with our friendships. I see a bright future ahead for the OWCA and evil scientists everywhere: nemesisships based not just on mutual hate and a piece of paper saying you must fight each other, but on a mutual respect and an understanding that underneath the job lies two individuals who should ultimately look out for each other."
"Agent P, you make us all proud with your bravery and heroism, your loyalty and strength, but most especially you make us proud with your love." Perry knows he means "love for mankind" love and "love for friends and family" love, but the statement, said so plainly but carrying so much significance to Perry alone, still makes his knees week. He stands firm, though, and merely gives Monogram a shaky smile and a quick salute.
Some of the agents hand each other handkerchiefs and dab their eyes. Doofenshmirtz yanks one out of a cat's paws and blows his nose loudly.
"Happy Nemeversary to you both," Monogram concludes, "And here's to another 5 years of frenemesisship."
The other agents applaud (a somewhat less-impressive sound when made with furry paws and wings, but a gesture of support nonetheless), and they actually mean it.
"That was beautiful, sir," Perry can hear Carl sob over the din as Monogram hops off the stage to rejoin the table.
"Carl, you wrote the speech," Monogram points out.
"I know," Carl blubbers. The dog agent sitting next to him graciously hands him a tissue, into which the intern blows his nose with a sound reminiscent of a foghorn.
Left standing unnecessarily on the stage, head reeling with relief and fairly aglow with both bashfulness and pride, Perry realizes somewhere in the back of his mind that he had completely forgotten about his and Heinz's nemeversary. Has it really been 5 years? He glances at his nemesis incredulously. The self-proclaimed doctor is smiling in a way that he would totally deny as being affectionate, and he gestures for Perry to come back down to his seat. Perry's feet move almost automatically as he does so.
"It was awfully nice of you to throw us a party, Francis," Heinz says when Perry has settled back into his chair. "I didn't know you cared!"
"It's to show the OWCA's appreciation for Agent P's continued efforts and acknowledge the longest-standing continuous nemesisship in the history of the Agency. It is not for you," the Major grumbles, crossing his arms. "And it's not a party; it's a banquet."
"Then what are all those presents for?" Heinz says smugly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms to mirror Monogram, indicating a table piled high with packages with a jerk of his chin. Perry's eyes widen as they scan over the assortment of different-sized parcels, some wrapped clumsily or in pretty gift bags and others sitting unobtrusively in paper bags. There is at least one gift that is not wrapped or concealed at all—several, actually, now that he looks closely. Wow, Perry thinks. How in the world had he managed to miss that? He must have been more distracted by his anxiety than he'd previously thought. "When do we get to open them? I want to open them!" his nemesis continues, clapping his hands together like a six-year-old girl. Perry would roll his eyes, but the thought strikes him that this is quite possibly the only event that has ever been planned in Heinz's honor, the only time he has ever received gifts from more than one person at a time. He suddenly can't find it in him to begrudge the man his childish joy.
"You can open them whenever you want," Monogram says stiffly. "But don't expect to be the center of attention or—" He doesn't bother to finish his sentence, because the scientist has seized his fellow honoree's paw and rushed off with an excited, high-pitched sound that Perry refuses to acknowledge as a squeak.
"Which one should we open first, Perry the Platypus?" Heinz asks, eyeing the packages with something that is less like greed and more like someone trying to memorize the beauty of an undisturbed landscape. "I've never had to choose before!" The platypus shrugs, a reluctant smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. He's somewhat glad that the other guests are not making the gift-opening an "event." They are all chatting amongst themselves or helping themselves to seconds of their favorite dishes. "Wait, I know!" the man (read: overgrown child) exclaims. "Which one is yours, Perry the Platypus?" His smile is expectant. Perry blinks in confusion. Weren't they all his? Well, theirs, really. "You knowww," he says conspiratorially. "My nemeversary present from you!"
Perry shakes his head and extends two empty hands. "It's a handshake?" Perry shakes his head again. "You left it at home?" Perry shakes his head a third time as he makes an 'x' with his arms and then gestures around himself in a sweeping motion to indicate that there is nothing there. "It's invisible?" Heinz guesses. Perry glares, resting his hands on his hips. His nemesis gasps, pointing a single dramatic finger at the platypus. "You forgot our nemeversary, didn't you? I can't believe you, Perry the Platypus!" Perry's shoulders slump and he looks at the floor in shame. He hadn't meant to forget. He'd just been too busy worrying about his job to think about it.
Heinz crosses his arms. "Well, you—you're just lucky there's all these other presents here to make up for your thoughtlessness"—Perry makes a dismayed face—"that's right, thoughtlessness," he repeats. "I got something for you; I was going to give it to you later tonight." Perry's not surprised that Heinz has assumed that they will be hanging out after the banquet. He toes an invisible scuff on the floor and glances up at his nemesis guiltily.
"Don't make that face, Perry the Platypus; it makes it very hard for me to make accusations against you," Heinz says, and Perry knows that he's forgiven.
A/N: Don't be afraid to leave me a review or anything :)