Work Text:
The storm rages through the streets of Danville, rain beating against the windows and wind howling in every gap it could find. You watch it through the closed windows, safe in your nemesis's apartment, while he towels off your soaked fur.
"You didn't have to come, Perry the Platypus," he says, scrubbing at your back until you stop shivering. Normally you would have been fine, your fur's watertight, but the force of the gale out there had left you soaked through. "I know it's our nemeversary," he continues, "but it's raining out there! You could have been hurt!"
From the way he says it, you can tell which part of the idea he finds most intolerable: that he wouldn't be the one hurting you.
He keeps talking, turning his attention to your arms, rubbing them down one at a time. "I don't like seeing you hurt," a pause, then the addition you'd expected: "when it's not my fault. That's different."
It is different. After all, no matter what, he's still your nemesis. You've come to relish the aches and the bruises that comes from fighting him, the soot in your fur, even his screams of "curse you, Perry the Platypus!" when your job is done. Makes you feel like your effort is worth something.
"You know what I mean, right, Perry the Platypus?" he asks, drying off your tail now. "You're my nemesis, it's my job." Now finished, he tosses the towel across the room, standing up. His hand finds yours without looking and you walk with him. "Not actually my job, since I don't get paid for it, I have to pay for it all out of my own pocket! Charlene's pocket, really, it's the same thing. But you get a paycheck for this! How is that fair? Here, sit down by the fire, it's nice and warm. Where was I..."
You let him talk, working out his worry. The words don't really matter, you think, only that he can say them and you can hear them. That's why you're here. Maybe even why you stayed at all, before everything else. He needs someone to listen, and you...
The first time he'd asked you a question and actually waited for your answer, you hadn't known how to react. Fighting was easy. Listening was easy. Sharing your thoughts wasn't easy at all. At the time, it had seemed like the hardest thing in the world. So you'd punched him, and he'd understood.
He's still holding your paw.
There's a lot of things he understands, things you've never had to spell out for him the way you would anyone else. Sometimes things you didn't even know yourself.
He knows you better than anyone else, even your family. Sometimes you resent him for that. Or them. Or someone. You know it's unfair, that your job requires this of you, but sometimes you hate that you can't hug your boys properly. That you can't even tell them. Sometimes it's achingly lonely, watching them from the outside, knowing you'll never get the chance to show them who you really are.
Idly, without even realising he's doing it, he brushes his thumb over the back of your paw. A tender gesture, and you shiver, fur prickling.
You can show Heinz. That helps, most days. You can come here and know he sees you.
Right now, you listen as he tells you all the reasons he's proud of his daughter, for at least the hundred and thirty-fourth time. You don't mind. It's good to see his smile, especially after the week you've had.
It's good to see him at all, really. Work's kept you away and you'd missed him fiercely. Him and his infectious optimism and the way his grin always makes your day brighter. The sound of his voice, too, familiar and calming, like fingernails through your fur.
A squeeze of his fingers and he stops mid-sentence, a blush rising in his cheeks. Your heart clenches and you climb to your feet, unsteady and uncertain, wanting nothing more than to hold him tight.
You shouldn't. Physical boundaries are all you have left. You've crossed so many lines with your friendship already, lines you should have held, and this is the only one still standing. Once it's gone, you have nothing. No way to protect yourself. And the thought of letting your guard down, leaving yourself defenceless, terrifies you more than anything else. You have to keep it. It's the only choice.
He blinks at you owlishly, then drops his gaze to where his fingers are intertwined with yours. "Perry the Platypus," he starts, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "This is... nice. Not the nemeversary you deserve, I was going to have a scheme for you, but with the rain and all..."
Outside, thunder crashes, as if to underscore his point. You're glad you're here instead, warm and dry and in the best company you could wish for.
"Anywho, you're trapped." He's grinning now, the sort of grin that promises his usual mischief. "By the storm. Which I definitely intended, I'll have you know," he adds, at your eyeroll. "You got drenched on the way in, there's no way I'm letting you back out there. Can't have my nemesis catching a cold."
A shiver runs up your spine and you chirr softly at him, squeezing his fingers. You'll be fine. You're Perry the Platypus, you don't get sick.
From the way he frowns at you, you're not sure he believes you. "Are you shivering? You are. Come here, you must be freezing, here you go," and you can't say no to him so before you know it you're tucked in against him, cheek pressed against his warm chest. Safe.
You let your eyes fall shut as his arms curl around you, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It's quiet but firm, steady, a reminder that you're not the only one letting himself be vulnerable right now. Without opening your eyes, you squirm closer to him, wrapping your arms around his narrow chest and breathing in the familiar scent of metal and soot.
Why did you deny yourself this for so long? What were you so scared of? This is Heinz, your nemesis, he only hurts you in the right way. You can trust him. You do trust him, more than anyone else you've ever met.
His fingers run through your fur, gentle and rhythmic like the rain outside, the warmth of his body matching the fire at your back, and you yawn. You could fall asleep here, curled up in his lap. It's been a very long week, he's comfortable, and you're so tired.
You deserve a break. The last week has been hectic, you've earned it. It hadn't been easy to get; you'd had to pull a lot of strings to get today off, call in more than a few favours, but it's worth it. He's worth it.
"Thank you, Perry the Platypus," he murmurs, just on the edge of hearing, as you drift off to sleep in his arms. "I think I'm really glad you came."