Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night, and there’s a heavy knock on the door downstairs. Heinz is awake, tinkering away in his lab, but he can’t for the life of him think who might be visiting him at this hour, so he ignores it. It’s probably one of Vanessa’s friends being inconsiderate (it is a school night, you know). That or they want his neighbor, she’s a nice old lady but her friends and family are as forgetful as her and never seem to remember which apartment is hers.

Part of him thinks he should go direct them to her place, but then he reminds himself he’s evil and that’s not a very evil thing to do, so he goes back to his tinkering. It’s not very evil either, he’s actually working on creating a metal alloy that will make lighter prosthetics without compromising durability. He wouldn’t have to slouch so much if his arms were lighter, but nothing he’s been able to work with holds up quite so well as titanium when it comes to cartoonish physical violence and explosions and the occasional crushing.

If he were working on something evil he would probably go check the door, but he has to get it in somewhere. He’s got an evil quota to match and it’s almost midnight.

Then they knock again. Again, he ignores it. The third time though, it’s really insistent, more banging than knocking. He rolls his eyes and tries to ignore it, but when the banging starts again he shouts, “TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!” down the stairwell. Lies are evil.

But if anything, acknowledging it only makes it worse. Soon it’s a constant barrage, ceaseless and obnoxiously loud. With a loud sigh of frustration Heinz sets his work aside and starts down the stairs, calling, “YEAH, YEAH, I’M COMING!”

The knocking stops almost immediately. He grumbles--he likes to make people feel like they’re inconveniencing him--and shuffles toward the door, already talking before he pulls it open. “What is your problem man, your knuckles must be bloody by now, I mean--”

He stops dead, unable to process what he’s seeing properly. There’s… Perry. Perry the Platypus. And five other people. A man and a woman behind him, each leaning in to keep the other up. A girl, a little younger than Vanessa. And two boys, one in Perry’s arms, the other squeezing his hand so tight his knuckles are white. Lots of red hair, except for the man, who’s a brunette, and the boy with the head shaped vaguely like this building, who sports a bright green mop.

And Perry, of course, with the feathery teal cap under his actual brown cap. Fedora, whatever.

And… a lot of blood.

It’s splashed across faces, drying on fingers, smeared across fabric. Most of it doesn’t look life-threatening, but Perry… Perry’s drenched in it, his hair a shade darker, his white t-shirt soaked through… If it weren’t for the hair and the hat Heinz might not even recognize the face underneath the rust red mask.

And his bright brown eyes are wide, pupils just small pinpricks of black, lips parted in a pleading expression, as if begging for something.

“Perry the… P-Perry?” Heinz asks, brain short-circuiting. The smaller man shifts the boy in his arms and squeezes the other boy’s hand before prying it free of green-hair’s grasp. He makes a fist with his free hand, extending his thumb and placing it as close to his occupied hand as possible, lifting the thumb’s-up to eye level.

Despite the obstructed hand, context makes the meaning clear, and Perry’s expression makes it a plea. A desperate one. “Help.”

Heinz stares for a moment, unable to form any cogent thoughts. Perry repeats the sign, maybe thinking Heinz doesn’t understand. He wonders why the others aren’t offering anything, but glancing around makes it clear--the couple and the boy in Perry’s arm are wiped, and the teenage girl, now clutching the other boy close, is anxious and confused.

And Heinz is a weird stranger standing in his feety pajamas like an overgrown child.

He focuses back on Perry, who he realizes is trembling. He makes the sign for help again, then presses his hand to his chest, rotating it clockwise-- ”Please.”

Heinz chuckles weakly, reflexively, and flinches at the sound. “I’m uh, not that kind of Doctor…”

Perry snatches Heinz’s hand and lays it flat, palm up. He crooks his own pointer finger, palm forward, and turns his palm down as he shakes his head, points at Heinz, then lays his hand out, palm-down, tapping twice on Heinz’s wrist with his middle fingers. “I don’t need you to be a doctor.” He does the crooked-pointer motion again, then after placing his free fist in front of his other hand pointed in, brings it away, palm toward Heinz. “Need to be safe.”

Chapter Text

Heinz is truly and honestly touched, but he knows he doesn’t have time to be. The teenage girl keeps looking at the elevator and stairwell, biting her lip, as if expecting someone to come barreling out at any second. He’s not sure what to say so he just steps aside, gesturing them in.

Perry rushes inside before the gesture is complete, and the others follow; the girl practically shoving the boy ahead of her, the older pair limping in slowly, barely more than dead weight.

“There are couches, and a guest room through there,” he says, pointing as he shuts and locks the door, “but don’t go through the door on the left, that’s my daughter’s room and she’s got testing tomorrow.” For extra measure, worried about who or what could be after them, Heinz quickly pushes the chest of drawers by the door in front of it.

The man and woman give him a grateful smile but seem too exhausted to give voice to it (if they even have voices to give). They collapse into the couch together, eyes on Perry as he hurries into the kitchen. He shoves everything to the ground, tablecloth and all. Plates smash as they hit the ground and Heinz gasps.

“What are you doing?” he demands, jarred back to full awareness. He rushes into the kitchen while Perry, completely ignoring him, lays the boy in his arms on the table with great care. As he often does he regrets speaking almost immediately. He can see now that it wasn’t Perry who needed medical attention.

The boy’s entire front is stiff and tacky with drying blood, soaked from his chest to his knees. Heinz begins to shake too, horrified at the sight. Who does things like this to children? he wonders, watching in mutual disgust and fascination as Perry reaches into his signature fedora, pulling out a blade that he uses to cut the boy’s clothing off, leaving him in his underwear.

The bleeding is mostly sluggish now--no doubt the fibrin is already starting to form clots--but it still looks bad. Perry glances at Heinz, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He signs “First aid kit, bandages?”

“Y-yeah,” Heinz says, blinking back to life. “One second, you cats hold tight.”

Fortunately Heinz has a lot of both things--evil scientist health insurance isn’t the best, and even though his alimony payments are extremely generous, the American healthcare system is a mess (thousands of dollars just to sit in a room for thirty minutes and put saline in his veins, ugh, don’t even get him started). He doesn’t feel competent enough to treat anyone else, but he’s gotten pretty good at patching himself up over the years.

He’s back in a pinch with an armful of first aid kits and bandages, handing the latter to Perry, as well as two of the first aid kits, and handing one to each of the rest of them. He’s not sure how much medical attention they need, but they can at least disinfect and bandage some of the smaller wounds if nothing else.

The teenager is sitting with the older pair--he assumes they’re the parents of the gaggle--twitching with nervous energy. The green-haired boy is at the sink now, standing on a chair to fill a pot, which he quickly places on a burner before getting another down from the cabinet and doing the same thing.

The boiling water thing, Heinz knows from experience, is just to give someone in the way something to do to feel like they’re helping. But all the same he realizes there might not be enough disinfectant in the first aid kits, so he rushes back to get the iodine from the bathroom counter and a clean washcloth.

Perry looks at him long enough to say “Thank you” before pouring iodine onto the cloth and beginning to wipe the boy clean. It’ll take a lot, so Heinz goes to the sink, patting the other boy on the shoulder as he reaches over his head. Pulling out an old stainless-steel bowl and filling it, he then sets it on the table for Perry. He’ll have to throw it out (he doesn’t trust anything with other people’s blood on it, even once it’s been sterilized), but he has several, he won’t miss it.

While the kid boils water and the teenager and her parents crack open their own first aid kits, Heinz sets to work cleaning up the kitchen. He tosses the tablecloth in the laundry basket (Norm got ketchup all over it again while “eating” ramen (yuck), so it needed to be cleaned anyway). Then he places the intact plates on the counter and sweeps up the rest.

It’s mindless work, and he watches Perry while he does it. The man’s focus is absolute. He moves with great precision, wasting no movements as he finishes wringing out the cloth. The boy looks a lot better without all that blood, but still pale and unresponsive. It’s only the shallow motion of his chest that assures Heinz he’s still with them. And it’s only now that Heinz can see what’s causing the bleeding. There are some cauterized wounds--lazers--and thin slash marks--knives--and scrapes--maybe road-rash.

And bullet holes.

He cringes, unable to help thinking about his own daughter at that age--this kid can’t be more than ten, maybe as young as seven. He imagines the only reason his parents aren’t panicking is the shock. Or maybe they’re agents, too, falling back on their training. Maybe the agency’s files have been leaked. It would explain why Perry would bring them here instead of his own home, or OWCA headquarters.

While Perry pulls out and threads the cutting needle Heinz pours the last of the ceramic shards in the trash and leans against the counter, playing with his fingers. The agent discards his hat (almost looking like an entirely different person). Hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat that leaves cleanish tracks down his face as gravity does its work. He pulls out the tweezers--well, forceps, Heinz guesses they’re called, but they look just like tweezers--and sets to work on the worst gash across the boy’s stomach.

He’s fast, efficient, and Heinz is hypnotized by the smooth actions, like The Platypus has done it a thousand times before. Heinz didn’t realize he had medical training, but he’s not surprised. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about his nemesis.

Soon the first wound is sealed, and Perry is cutting the thread and moving on to the next-largest wound, much less threatening but still deep enough that if he looks closely Heinz can see the pearly gleam of a rib through the red. It’s at this point that he notices the green-haired kid staring at (again, Heinz assumes) his brother, looking pale and moments away from throwing up. Heinz knows that expression--he saw it on his own face in the mirror when he lost his first arm, just before he passed out.

“Okay,” Heinz says, smiling uncertainly and clapping to get the kid’s attention. As he expected, Perry doesn’t even twitch, undistractable. The boy looks up at him immediately. “Hey there, uh…”

“Ferb,” the teenage girl says.

“Ferb,” Heinz says, the name strange in his mouth. “Ferb, I’m Doctor Doofenshmirtz, and you look a little sick.” He sets a hand on the boy’s back and gently steers him toward the guest bedroom. “Why don’t you come in here and sit down so your uh--sister?” The girl nods when he looks at her. She also looks pale and jittery. Could also use a distraction. “So your sister can take a look at those scratches.”

The boy glances briefly at the other boy, then back up at Heinz. After years of interpreting Perry’s expressions, Heinz understands him perfectly.

“Now don’t you worry about your brother,” Heinz says, doubling down on the family angle and taking a knee to get eye-to-eye with the kid. “I’ve known the nice agent for years, that one’s a real mensch,  your brother couldn’t possibly be in better hands. Your parents will be right here with them, and we’ll come get you when he’s all patched up.”

Looking uncomfortable, the boy finally nods and enters the guest room. Heinz holds the door open for the girl, who looks up at him with anxiety and gratitude. He gets them each a glass of water--it helps, he knows--and sets them on the nightstand while the sister helps Ferb with the cuts on his face and arms. “There are some old clothes hanging up in the closet if you want to put on something clean,” he tells them. Filling up the silence with talk is his natural defense mechanism against anxiety, and their haggard expressions make him very anxious. “The bathroom is the last door down the hall to the right, and anything on the bookshelf or in the drawers is yours to use if you get bored, okay? Okay, I’ll just… be going now.”

He leaves, smiling awkwardly, feeling silly and overwarm in his feety pajamas. They had to be the ones with the platypuses on them, too. Platypi? Platypeople? Anyway. Perry is done with the stitches by the time he leaves the guest room. Has even applied that clear plastic safety covering and everything. He snaps his fingers and makes a cinching motion with his right hand. “Pliers?”

“Just a sec,” Heinz promises, running up to his lab. He roots around in his tool drawer, pulling out the sharpest pair of pliers he has (that aren’t rusty) and grabbing an unopened box of scalpels as well. Charlene gave them to him to mock him when he got that online degree, knowing full well he had no use for them. But he wasn’t sure what Perry needed, and he might as well bring them.

He’s back in a flash. This time Perry just nods and goes back to work, pouring iodine all over the pliers. He scans each gunshot wound--Heinz counts five.

Perry sets to work, eventually removing three bullets, leaving the other two alone. They’re small and flat, and fortunately not very deep in, but Heinz imagines the reason the other two stayed was because they are deep. Or near something vital.

The rest of the wounds are fairly superficial, and it’s simple enough to apply aloe to the burns and band-aid or bandage the rest. Perry closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, then one of his chirring noises. He wipes bloody sweat from his face and looks with exhausted dismay at the boy before him, setting a hand over the boy’s heart and gently brushing his cheek with his other thumb.

The tenderness there isn’t lost on Heinz. This kid isn’t some stranger he’s been sent to protect. He knows him personally. Cares about him a great deal.

“Is that it?” Heinz asks, his voice rough, sound feeling wrong in the tension. Without the other kids hanging around the parents have caved, clutching one another and crying quietly into each other’s shoulders.

Perry shrugs. “That’s all I can do. Needs blood, but…”

“Oh! Oh oh oh, what’s his blood type?” Heinz asks, a little too excitable for the circumstances but he’s eager to help, and he might actually be able to.

“AB negative,” Perry signs, looking at Heinz with curiosity. “Why?”

“Phew!” Heinz is already heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back, you stay there.” He runs up as quickly as his legs will carry him and rushes to the fridge at the back. Blood is another thing he stores, because he loses a lot of it, so on weeks where he isn’t badly injured or recovering from a previous large injury he tries to set aside some blood for later. He isn’t sure how much a kid that size needs, but boy is he lucky; almost a universal recipient, but not quite, and fortunately for him Heinz is A negative.

He takes four bags and his IV setup downstairs, now going slow to avoid dropping them. He sets everything down in front of Perry and lets him situate it while he runs to his room to get dressed. He doesn’t have a lot of variety in his closet, but he figures that doesn’t matter much as he throws spare outfits over his arm for the four in the next room.

By the time he comes back out, the woman is on the table, struggling out of her shirt, and the boy is lying with his head in his father’s lap, IVed wrist hanging limply from the couch while the man strokes his hair.

“I uh, brought changes of clothes,” he says, feeling better now that he’s back in his lab coat. “And a blanket,” he adds, holding up each arm as he mentions the items thereupon. Perry acknowledges him with another chirr. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Anesthetic?” Perry asks hopefully, and Heinz nods, sets the items down on the couch, and goes back to the bathroom for the prilocaine and epinephrine he keeps there.

“It’s local,” he says, handing them over, “I don’t know if…” Perry waves him off, and Heinz nods, then goes to sit on one of his chairs, legs flaring out from the knees in an A formation. He listens to Perry work and the occasional hiss from the woman, and absently switches between staring at his never-still hands and the boy, now with one arm through a lab coat sleeve and fully wrapped in the blanket he’d brought out.

Heinz feels a little ashamed now for not wanting to let them in. He wants to say something, fill up the silence like he always does, offer an apology, condolences, anything, but he just can’t bring himself to shatter the quiet. It feels like these people need it, and he wonders if he should excuse himself, but then they might need something.

So he just sits. And he waits.

Chapter Text

When Perry has finished with the woman he goes to the man, who only needs a few bandaids and some gauze for a sprained ankle, and Heinz lets the other kids know that it’s safe to come out. They’re barely awake, wrapped in overlarge clothing left over from Big Laundry and propping each other up on the edge of the bed to keep from crashing out, but they come alive when he walks in. They’re out the door so fast it leaves him unbalanced.

Rushing out to see the boy and their parents, also freshly changed, they launch themselves at their guardians and the four cling to one another over the body of the still-unconscious youth, whispering fears and soothings to one another.

It’s one of those intimate moments that makes a man feel like he’s looking through someone else’s back window, and Heinz feels uncomfortable. He sees Perry slipping off down the hall, spare outfit over arm and first aid kit in hand, and follows after him. The bathroom door shuts just a moment before Heinz catches up, and he knocks.

“Do you need any help?”

After a moment’s pause the door clicks open, and Heinz pushes in gently, sizing the man up. He’s got a new wet cloth in hand, halfway to his face. “Let uh, let me get that for you,” he says, and after another tired pause, Perry sets the cloth in Heinz’s hand and sits obediently on the toilet seat, tilting his face upward and shutting his eyes.

Gently, hands shaking a little, Heinz bends down and begins gently clearing the blood from Perry’s face. Most of it clearly isn’t his. He wouldn’t be surprised if most of it isn’t even that kid’s. Not that he's ever seen Perry use excessive force, but... they shot a kid! The rules are different when people you care about are in danger, even for an agent of good.

“So uh,” Heinz says, his need to fill the silence finally overpowering his self-control, “I’m--I’m really touched that you came to me when you needed help, but I’m uh. Well I don’t know who they are, and I’m a little confused over why you couldn’t just take them to your base, I mean, who’s following you? Should I be worried about them coming here, because my daughter is right up the hall, and I think I should at least know if--”

Perry holds up a hand, blinking his eyes to clear them of excess moisture before meeting Heinz’s gaze. Heinz stops both his ablutions and his speech on command. Perry looks… nervous in a way Heinz has never seen before. Not even nervous, no--he’s scared.

Perry flounders, flexing his fingers rapidly as if trying to figure out how to say what needs to be said. Heinz has never seen this side of Perry before. He’s a quiet man, sure, doesn’t like to do much in the way of lingual communication, but he’s always been confident in his choice. When he’s silent he’s silent, and when he wants to sign something he signs it, and any deliberation that happens goes on solely in his head.

It’s kind of endearing. In a heart rending way.

“They’re really important to you, aren’t they?” Heinz asks in a hush, and, looking pained, Perry nods.

With a great breath through his nose Perry finally tells him, “They’re my family.”

“Oh,” Heinz breathes. He slowly lowers the cloth in his hand to the counter behind him. Perry’s face is mostly clean, and none of his cuts are bleeding anymore. If there’s anything that needs it now, it’s under his shirt, and Heinz isn’t about to ask him to undress. Then Perry would see how flustered the thought makes him, and--and now isn’t the time to mentally explore his strange attraction to the man with whom he’s been engaging in violent daily battles for years.

The point is, the cloth isn’t necessary right now, but processing this revelation is.

“Oh,” he repeats, eyes widening. “Can you even tell me that, I mean I’m your nemesis, what if I--”

“You wouldn’t,” Perry says with a small (and alarmingly make-your-heart-beat-harder tender) smile.

“But I might--”

Perry shakes his head. “I know you. I know they’re safe here. Besides,” he adds, “this might be the last place they look.”

“Who?”

The next few hand-motions are a circle with thumb and fingers, then three fingers held up, then a half-circle, and finally a fist held up with the thumb resting against the outside. Heinz’s eyes go large as he lifts a hand to cover his mouth. “O.W.C.A.”

“You’re joking,” Heinz accuses, but Perry shakes his head. “You went rogue? ”

A few different emotions war within Heinz. A part of him is elated, he’s always kind of hoped Perry would switch allegiances. He could make an even more powerful ally than he does a potent enemy, and he might get to actually learn something important about the man beneath the fedora.

Though naturally the primary reason, while far-flung, has been his fantasy that he isn’t the only one feeling the slow burn of temptation as they dance intricately around each other. That the hand-holding, the help with his personal life, the after-thwarting hang-outs, go deeper than friendship on both sides. Just thinking about the possibility makes his heart do somersaults.

But of course, there’s nothing wholly joyful in this apartment. Well, maybe Norm and Vanessa. But they don’t count, they’re asleep. In fact, everything about this is… really depressing. Those people are clearly scared, and came just inches within losing their son.

If Heinz hadn’t come down when he did, if he’d put in his earplugs and continued the ignoring, things might be very different. After all, the fact that he didn't just use it indicates that Perry doesn't have his key with him, and knocking the door down makes the apartment indefensible.

Shaking his hand up and down in a so-so gesture and looking away, Perry’s expression decides Heinz’s reaction. No theatrics or musical numbers or fireworks for this one. “They came for my kids,” Perry signs, and Heinz feels his heart break for the man. “Worried about potential threats. Wanted to.” Perry grimaces hard. “Wanted to weaponize them.”

“Holy shit,” Heinz breathes, his language startling Perry into looking him full in the face. He doesn’t think he’s ever sworn in front of the agent before, so that makes sense. He likes to keep curses powerful for moments like this. “That’s not very good of them.” Understatement of the year, but the correct expression eludes him.

Perry runs a hand through his hair, frowning at the bloody mats he finds there. “They have their reasons,” he says, “but I can’t let that happen. I can’t. Don’t want Vanessa to get hurt,” Perry adds, hitting Heinz with an apologetic bearing of teeth. It can’t really be called a smile. “But had nowhere else to go. Hoping they won’t think about you,” Perry goes on, “at least not until we’re gone. Just--can we stay the night?”

“No, I’m just going to send an almost-dead child out into the night to get shot up by the people who stunt my dreams at every turn,” Heinz sarcasticates, rolling his eyes and gesturing airily as he crosses one leg over the other in a full lean against the sink. “Perry the Platypus I would hope you would know me better than that.”

Perry smiles and stands quickly, throwing his arms around Heinz before the taller man realizes what’s happening. He hugs him fiercely, like someone might try to tear him away, and it takes Heinz almost a full breathless minute to send the signals to his limbs to reciprocate the hug.

He holds on loosely, scared that holding too tight will make Perry realize what he’s doing and let go. Perry clings to him, face buried in his chest, and Heinz presses his cheek against Perry’s ear, listening to his rough breathing. It’s a few moments before Heinz realizes that Perry is crying. On him.

“H-hey,” he says softly, trying not to break this beautiful thing happening. “I--I’ve got you, I’m not going to make you leave. You can stay as long as you need. I can send Vanessa back to her mother’s if you think it’s too dangerous,” he adds. “Besides, this might be my only chance to fight O.W.C.A. with you at my side, so I’m taking it. Carpe diem!”

That gets a shuddering silent laugh out of Perry, whose grip on Heinz only tightens.

“They’re not agents, huh?” Heinz asks, and Perry shakes his head so hard it stings his ear, but he doesn’t say anything.

This, Heinz realizes, is how Perry has felt all night, since before even getting here. Lost and scared and betrayed and probably there’s a lot more complexity to it than even that. Responsible for these civilians, themselves scared and confused, who probably didn’t even know about The Platypus at all. Trying to keep himself together through firefight and high-speed chases and the people closest to him in the world nearly dying . Having to perform life-or-death surgery on his own kid.

The thought of rooting around in Vanessa’s insides being the difference between her living and dying makes him dizzy. The weight of doing even the slightest thing wrong would paralyze him. And here’s Perry the Platypus, holding it all together, holding his family together, taking everything with the hard outer shell of a lifelong pro.

And finally falling apart in Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz’s arms. Feeling safe and secure enough to cry while his nemesis holds him.

This moment is everything to the aforementioned doctor. His entire world narrows to this moment, and he tentatively ghosts his fingers through Perry’s hair. He wants to nuzzle him, to kiss his ear, his hair, his forehead, rub circles across his back and tell him he’ll never do anything to wreck this magic golden trust he’s somehow lucked into.

But he’s scared, and of all the moments to risk their friendship, this isn’t the one. Perry needs someone to hold him, not someone he needs to survive but no longer wants to be around.

Not to mention… My kids. Does that mean the woman is his wife? Ex-wife? Or someone else? Or is the man his husband?

Heinz tries not to dwell on it, and clears his mind of everything he can.

It has to end eventually, but neither of them is the one to end it. It’s a knock on the door and a girl’s voice asking meekly, “Are you done in there yet?”

Perry pulls away from Heinz slowly, and Heinz clears his throat. “Just a minute,” he says, a little sing-songy. “Just helping Perry get bandaged up.” Perry looks up at him, unimpressed. Heinz shrugs, signing, “Emotional bandage.”

Perry smiles at that.

“Okay,” the girl says, voice moving away from the door. “Just checking.”

“We should go,” Perry signs, and Heinz nods, turning the cold water faucet pointedly and gesturing to it as he steps aside. Perry nods back, stepping up to faucet and splashing his face in the hopes that the redness will go down. Splashing his open eyes, too.

“So, eh,” Heinz can’t resist saying, trying and failing to sound casual as he rubs at the back of his neck, “your kids, huh? They don’t look much like you. Well I guess the younger one has similar hair, but other than that--and he doesn’t look much like the other two, so--”

Perry snaps his fingers to stop Heinz in his tracks. Heinz does stop, feeling awkward as Perry turns off the water and dries his face on a towel before continuing, smirking slightly. He makes an “n” sign near his cheek, palm in, and twists it to face Heinz twice. Then he makes a sideways duck-bill pulling motion from left to right, and repeats the “n” twisting, this time above his head, four twists this time. “Niece and nephews.”

Heinz tries and fails not to blush, and also fails to not let his relief show. Not that kids are a deal-breaker of course (not that there’s any deal to be broken, dummkopf) , but they certainly can make things complicated . Still, Perry seems amused, and that’s better than the crying.

“So uh, do they have names?”

Perry nods, fingerspelling P-H-I-N-E-A-S before making a P sign and bouncing it off his forehead the way one would an i for “idea.” His name-sign. Then F-E-R-B, followed by the sign for  technician, but using an F for the hand normally left flat. Finally C-A-N-D-A-C-E, and then a C held by the mouth, opened and closed twice, sort of like the sign for “duck.”

Heinz smiles fondly. “There are stories there,” he says, and Perry replies,

“Always are.” He gestures to the articles of clothing hanging from the curtain rod over the tub. “Now leave.”

Chapter Text

While Perry changes, Heinz goes out to the main area and looks around at the pained, tired, maybe-probably-scarred-for-life faces that glance up at him.

He stands there for a minute before clapping his hands together and asking, “Who’s hungry?” way too loudly. Two young hands go up, and a moment later Ferb puts Phineas’s IV'd hand up for him. Great! That gives him something to do. “What are you hungry for? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?” No one seems to want to answer. “Alright then, we’ll mix and match, eggs and burgers, you’ve been through a lot you’ll need some protein, and a vegetable. Any allergies?”

Candace shifts in her seat as Heinz takes the neglected pots off the burners and pours the contents down the sink. She says gruffly, “Parsnips and dairy.”

“Me too!” Heinz gasps, trying to keep his spirits up, hoping maybe at least the kids will be put at ease by it. He’s not great with teenagers, but he is pretty good with kids under pre-teen. “Well, the dairy thing, not parsnips, but parsnips are gross, who likes parsnips? What’s your favorite vegetable?” No answer. “Well if you don’t want to tell me, you’re getting carrots. What’s more dinnery than carrots? Except baby carrots, which are more like a lunchtime food.”

He continues rambling as he gets things together and starts chopping carrots. He’s never been a great cook where ancient family recipes aren’t involved, but he’s been working on it, and he’s pretty solid on these sorts of simple things. “Well make yourselves at home, there’s the tv out there, we get cable but we also have some dvds if you’re interested. And there are books around, mostly upstairs, though if the little guys go up there they should probably have supervision just in case, that’s my lab and my daughter is sixteen now so it’s not child-proofed, there are tools and sharp scrap metal everywhere.

“I don’t have a lot of fiction unfortunately, mostly scientific texts and instructional manuals, but we have wifi--although, has Perry the Platypus told you to get rid of your simcards?” He shoves the carrots in the oven and turns, taking in their expressions. The little boy nods. “Alright, well, if you brought any laptops you can still use those, just don’t log into any websites as yourself just in case. And there’s a desktop in the guest room, you kids saw that, and another one upstairs.” Heinz gestures with a spatula before setting separate pans on separate burners simultaneously.

“We have board games,” he goes on, cracking eggs into one pan and setting pre-shaped burgers in the other, “though mostly Drusselsteinian ones, and the instructions are in German, but Perry the Platypus can translate those for you, or I could do it, but you’d probably feel more comfortable with him than with me. Of course you can take a bath or a shower if you need once Perry the Platypus is out of the bathroom--eh, except maybe you, miss uh--”

“Linda,” the woman replies, eyes snapping wide as if she's only just now tuning in. “Linda Flynn-Fletcher.”

That’s right, Heinz realizes, we used to date, didn’t we? But he says nothing. He also seems to recall that she declined to appear at his Backstoryinator event because she didn’t remember him at all. Ah well. Weird that she's family to his nemesis, but weird is pretty much his life. “Nice to meet you Linda,” he says as if meeting her for the first time, flipping a burger. “Well, the stitches might not do well under water, but you’ll have to ask Perry the Platypus to be sure. Your little guy there, Phineas? He should probably not get wet for a while, either.”

That’s when Perry makes his appearance, and Heinz has to work very hard not to laugh, seeing the suave Agent P drowning in a labcoat much too long for him, the sleeves hanging past his fingertips, his hair dripping wet and still shiny with hand soap.

Perry glares at him just for thinking it’s funny, squinting a little with his contacts clearly out. Without them his eyes are still brown, but more of a red-brown than a yellow-brown. It took a few years before Heinz learned he even had contact lenses. He imagines the colors are to make Perry look different than Agent P. Heinz has trouble telling Perry is Perry without the hat, but he knows that that’s a problem very specific to him. Why eye color would make a difference to anyone else when his hair is always on the blue side of teal is beyond him.

Heinz goes back to cooking while Perry goes to the couch, sitting immediately between father and conscious son, where he can hold onto both boys at once.

The carrots in the oven take longer than the burgers, which take longer than the eggs, but it’s all done pretty quickly. Heinz calls everyone over and has them sit down, serving them and laying condiments in the middle of the table. They leave Phineas slumbering on the couch, so there are just enough chairs for the six of them to sit and eat once Heinz pulls his spare chairs out of storage. Heinz has made two extra plates--one for the boy, for whenever he wakes up, and one for Vanessa. The sun is starting to rise already, so she’ll be up for school soon.

Before sitting down to eat Perry goes automatically to the drawer where Heinz keeps spares of things--including several spare sets of glasses and contacts for Perry the Platypus, so he never has to fly home blind after the thwarting if they get broken or lost.

That seems to be the teenager’s breaking point. She stares slack-jawed at her uncle as he steps away from the counter, sitting opposite Heinz at the head/foot of the table. After a few seconds she shakes her head and says, “This is weird, right? It’s not just me? Like, it’s really strange that Vanessa’s dad, who Uncle Perry's never mentioned, works with him so closely that he keeps spare glasses at his place, right? And that his job is as a secret spy? For a spy agency that’s apparently trying to kill us? No, this is beyond weird! This is weird to the max! And I’ve been to an alien planet where the currency is cuteness. ”

“Oh, so that’s where I know you from!” Heinz shouts, grinning. “I thought you looked familiar. Boy, that was a trip, wasn’t it? I didn’t realize you knew Vanessa--no wait! You helped turn everyone back to normal after the revolting-inator! And hey, you’re Larry, aren’t you? You beat me in an evil competition once!”

“I usually go by Lawrence, actually,” the man says, sounding even more British than Heinz remembered. “Though I can’t say I know what you’re referring to.”

Perry snaps his fingers for attention and once he has it holds one hand out flat, setting the middle finger of the other hand into his palm. He wiggles it a little, then slashes his hands through the air at his sides. Next he turns his hands so his palms are facing at chest level and pinches the thumb and fingers together twice, like a grandiose crab.  “Pharmacist convention.”

“Oh, yes! I was crowned king of the pharmacists, dear, it was very exciting. I missed my presentation though, but that’s what I get for not marking the address properly.”

“Perry dear,” Linda says, straining to sound cheery, her twitching facial muscles a dead give away, “I know it’s been a difficult day for you too, but I think everyone would feel better if we all knew exactly what was going on and when we can go home. Not that your home isn’t lovely, Doctor Doofenshmirtz, but surely you don’t want our whole family under foot forever.”

Perry looks around at everybody, looking almost as lost as he did when they first arrived. After about thirty seconds without a response, Heinz does what he does best and butts in.

“I think you should probably eat before you talk. Not to get in the middle of a family affair, but I’ve been on the run myself a few times, and you may not feel hungry right this minute but trust me, if you don’t eat now you’ll feel it later big time. Not to mention if they show up here you might have to run again and then who knows when you’ll next get the chance. I don’t even know   when Perry ate last, he works through lunch all the time. I should know, I’m the reason for that! And he can’t talk very well while he’s eating.”

“Alright,” Candace says with a sigh, staring down at her meal. She seems to speak for everyone, because they all turn their attention to their food. Except, at first, for Perry, who smiles at Heinz with soft eyes and tense brows, signing “Thank you” very deliberately.

“It’s nothing,” Heinz signs back. Before he can return to the meal, however, a door slams down the hall. Everyone goes tense immediately, except him and Perry.

“Hey dad,” Vanessa says sleepily before she’s even around the bend. “Something smells really good, what’s--” She stops dead, wearing just a long t-shirt and shorts and looking all cute, like when she was little. Except very alarmed. “Uh, dad, um. What’s Candace’s family doing here? And Perry? And why are they all dressed like you?”

Chapter Text

Heinz convinces Vanessa that she should also eat before answers are given, and Perry’s grateful for that, too. There’s a lot he’s left up to the imagination so far, and it’s better his family hear it from him than from Heinz. And Vanessa, getting an extra chair from the living room so she can sit between himself and Candace, helps put the family at ease. A coworker with a kid is a lot less threatening than a bachelor coworker. It indicates, at least to the emotional mind, that he can be trusted. Especially with a kid like Vanessa.

Not to mention, Vanessa creates conversation with ease. Heinz can be warm and friendly, but he doesn’t fully understand how conversation works, it’s an art that’s mostly lost on him thanks to his history of isolation and ostracization. He over-shares, sometimes to a disturbing degree. But Vanessa learned both from her mother’s success and her father’s failure.

It helps that she knows Candace and Ferb, too. She’s able to draw the kids into blissfully distracting conversation, which helps Lawrence and Linda settle down. It’s always easier to be calm when the kids are calm. 

And it gives Perry time to mull over what he’s going to say. 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He made that mistake before the fiasco with the second dimension. He put everything into avoiding the possibility, funneled everything he had into keeping the boys out of the know and convinced himself that preparing for it was a waste of time and energy. And everything had come out wrong, when it came out at all. He was panicking so hard that he couldn’t think on his feet.

So he’d spent a LOT of time since thinking about what to do. He’d figured he would have the amnesia-inator to fall back on next time, but it was still worth having a plan for the events between discovery and reset. Though, he knew there might come a time when, for reasons internal or external, he might have to reveal himself permanently.

It was the trickier situation, and the one he had spent less time thinking about--he really had put too much trust in Monogram. He’d still thought it over. But that didn’t make it easy to recall the words now, the same way no matter how many times you might rehearse asking someone on a date, it was still messy and nerve-wracking in practice.

That’s what he’s going through now. He’s practiced for this, but the stress of knowing it’s permanent, that there’s no redo button--on top of the stress of betrayal, no sleep, and fighting for his and his family’s lives--makes the perfect words flee his mind. And what’s left all sounds a hundred shades of wrong. For a quick patch before a refresh? Fine. But for this to be the last unveiling ever, from which there’s no return… everything seems to have holes in it. Everything opens him up to scrutiny and accusations and distrust. 

And really, if he thinks about it… that’s inevitable, isn’t it? He’s lied to them all for years. For most of his life he’s been lying. It’s easy to tell them that it isn’t about trust, but it’s not so easy to make them believe him, let alone understand and be okay with it. Especially not when they find out that his first instinct upon defecting is to come to the home of an evil scientist. 

The kids might forgive him. Phineas and Ferb were very forgiving the last time once they realized the truth. But something tells him Linda and Lawrence won’t be so easily persuaded.

He keeps trying to iron out the details in his mind, to make them as pretty as possible without misrepresenting the truth. There are uglier ways than others to say it. There are no entirely pretty ways. 

As he eats and deliberates, Perry finds himself watching Heinz, listening to Candace and Vanessa (and occasionally Linda or Lawrence) talk. For once the flamboyant inventor seems content not to be the center of conversation. He doesn’t seem to understand a lot of what’s being discussed, but he’s fascinated nonetheless. 

The (former) agent remembers breaking down in the bathroom an hour earlier, and feels disgusted with himself for not being able to hold it together. But of course, Heinz was there to catch him as he fell. Or rather, he was there to be caught and latched onto. 

Perry hasn’t felt so vulnerable since the early days of the academy, before he’d gotten used to hiding and lying. Back when his first instinct when he was in trouble was still to go to big brother Lawrence.

And now… it’s to go to Doof.

Because he can tell Heinz things he could never tell Lawrence. Heinz understands things Lawrence never can. Lawrence is sweet and trusting and filled with all the light in the world. But Perry has lived so much of his life in the dark. Heinz--Heinz is stormy and flighty and guards his trust possessively while still being unable to keep it from leaking out into places it doesn’t belong. Heinz knows the dark. 

It can’t be said that Heinz has never let him down. But it can’t be said, either, that Perry has never left Heinz in a shit position. It’s what the job entails.

And if Heinz was just “a job,” calling him a “friend from work” would be an outright lie. But he’s not. Never has been. Right from the start he was fun, even if there was only animosity at first. It’s all the things the job doesn’t entail that actually defines their relationship.

The movie nights, helping Vanessa (especially when he’s helping her skirt his former boss’s watchful eye), the tea times and luncheons and pastry parties. Dancing, holding hands, spending holiday eves together. 

And everything that’s happened since Heinz opened the door. Especially holding him together in his darkest moment. Offering his home to them indefinitely. Suppressing the urge to gloat about OWCA. 

Heinz may drop just about anything Perry can give him--sanity, free will, even his physical well-being--but Doofenshmirtz knows the value of a heart. He’s thought it for a long time, but today got to witness it first hand when he offered it up in a gold dish and Heinz treated it as infinitely more valuable than its carrying case. 

Perry’s lied about a lot of things, but Heinz being his friend has never been one of them.

And being able to bring the two halves of his life together is probably the only upside to this whole mess. Finally, he can be honest with his family; finally, he can offer his nemesis something meaningful, a hint of transparency.

Logically, they can’t stay here forever. And then he’ll have to say goodbye to his evil scientist. But at least, for a few hours, Perry doesn’t have to choose between different versions of himself. For the first time since he was offered a scholarship to ESWCA (the Elementary School Without a Cool Acronym) at six, there is only one Perry.

Even if it’s a Perry no one has ever met before.

After finishing with his meal, Perry finds his visual attention drifting to the couch. He can’t see Phineas over the high back from here, just the IV bag hanging from the rigging.

There was no question, from the moment Major Monogram handed down the orders, what would have to happen. The Major didn’t give them, they came from the heads of the organization Perry’s never been allowed to meet. But of course Monogram wouldn’t fight them on it.

He couldn’t argue that the Flynn-Fletcher kids would make great agents. Candace can be vicious when she wants to be, and the boys are verifiable geniuses. But Candace’s neuroses would be too great; with all that added responsibility they might crush her. The boys would flourish in their classes--advanced level sciences were what they needed for school to have any appeal for them--but the strict codes of behavior, the rigorous testing, the guided curriculum which left no room for fun and games and experimentation would destroy their creativity and zest for life.

Not to mention that none of them would do well with the loneliness that came part and parcel with it. They’re such social children, how could they go from all their bright friends to spending time only with other living weapons? They couldn’t. Perry would never let that happen to them.

The ironic thing is that in trying to save them from loneliness, Perry’s forced them into it. They can’t go back to their old friends now, OWCA will have them all staked out for weeks, maybe months.

That’s the problem with OWCA: Even when you beat it, it gets its way.

Perry can’t help but wonder if this was the wrong choice. Did he almost get Phineas killed for nothing? Of course they can always go back, if they’re okay with what awaits them. Perry can only go back if he’s willing to face prison time, maybe even private execution. 

These are the things he has to explain, and soon.

Breakfast is winding down, and before he knows it Vanessa is leaning back and asking Candace, “You’ve met Perry the Platypus, right?” 

“Yoouu mean my Uncle Perry?” Candace returns, casting him a sideways glance. “Yeah, I think we’ve met.” 

Vanessa looks between Perry and Candace, then Perry and Ferb, catching on right away. “Woah,” she says, “I didn’t know you were Candace’s uncle. Go figure. I didn’t think you were allowed to introduce your nemesis to your family, isn’t that like, against the rules?”

“Now when you say nemesis,” Ferb says--the first thing he’s said since before this whole mess started. 

“You know,” Vanessa says matter-of-factly, “mortal enemies, the eternal struggle between good and evil, that sort of thing. Perry’s here all the time thwarting dad’s plans.”

Heinz laughs his way awkwardly, nervously, into the conversation. “Vanessa,” he says in that sing-songy way of his, “maybe we should let Perry break the news to his family himself.”

Vanessa looks at her dad for a moment before it hits her, head whipping to look at Perry. “Oh. Oh my gosh, Perry I’m so sorry, I didn’t--”

Perry splays his fingers out, palm held to the side, and taps his chest with his thumb. “It’s fine.” He pushes out from the table and stands, feeling more solid standing. The time has come. He’s not ready, but the truth is he never will be. “I should explain.”

“I say, is she implying that this fellow is your Worthington Dubois?”

“Yes. Let’s start over.”   Perry  flexes his hands for a moment, deciding to bear down and just put it all out there as best he can, hoping it works out. “I’m a secret agent.”

“No,” Candace says with arms crossed, at the top of her snark game, “ every locksmith can dodge bullets, lose speeding vehicles, and do all that medical stuff within ten minutes of each other.” At least she’s feeling up to snark, Perry thinks with a weak smile.

“You told them you were a locksmith?” Heinz asks, only to quickly answer himself, “Well you do pick locks all the time, so I guess there's some truth in that. They’re just usually my locks, which would make me your only real customer .” 

“Anyway,” Perry signs, bringing the attention back to him with one of the rolling clicking sounds that are all his vocal chords are capable of making. “Dr. D,” he goes on, using the sign for PhD rather than MD, “is in name an evil scientist.” He can see Linda’s brain starting to break as she braces herself on the table, eyes like dinner plates. He barrels forward, hoping to be finished before she starts objecting, “Has never actually tried to hurt people. Would never hurt the kids.”

He looks to Vanessa, who immediately says, “Yeah, he’s not that kind of evil. Like, good evil, not bad evil, if that makes sense.”

For a second Heinz looks like he’s about to say something, but Perry pleads him down with his eyes, willing him not to let his ego or sensitivity get in the way. He can't help but feel like he's a teenager introducing a tactless romantic partner to his parents for the first time, trying so hard (and so futilely) to get his parents' approval. What a milestone to pass as a grown man living with his brother. It's an agonizing feeling, knowing he has so little control over how this goes.  Fortunately all Heinz says is, “Well yeah, I’m not a monster, jeez.”

“And why,” Linda says, trying to keep calm, “are we coming to your enemy’s home instead of going to your secret agency for help?”

The look on Heinz’s face says everything Perry’s feeling and then some. Looking down at the table Perry answers, “They’re who we’re running from.”

Explaining how things had gone awry is difficult, but Perry manages with very few interruptions. 

“I told you,” Candace shouts when Perry explains about Phineas and Ferb and their proclivity for invention. But her parents are too shocked to respond, and Perry pushes forward like she hasn’t said anything.

“I don’t think they’ll look for us here,” Perry explains, “at least not for a while. Dr. D has offered to let us stay. It gives us time to rest. Heal. Plan.” 

“And you really think the lab of an evil scientist is the best place for that,” Linda says, a strained statement of disbelief, not a question. Lawrence has wrapped an arm around her and taken her hand in his, and even he looks shaken and uncomfortable. 

“He is your enemy and all, old chap. What’s to say he won’t tell this Major of yours about us being here?” he asks.

Offended, Heinz starts off with a gasp and, “I would never help Francis --” but Perry whistles loudly to run him off at the pass. The Doofenshmirtz foot-in-mouth disease isn’t something he wants to feed tonight. 

“Not enemy,” Perry signs sharply, also a little offended on Heinz's behalf, then finger-spells, “N-E-M-E-S-I-S.” He knows that probably sounds ridiculous. But there’s a huge distinction, at least to them. His family has no context for it, but it has been a very long time since the word nemesis stopped being a work classification. Since Heinz stopped being just another crackpot to foil. The rich tapestry of a relationship they’ve been weaving is too complex, too difficult, too personal to properly convey in a reasonable amount of time and detail (and too intimate, vulnerable, embarrassing to want to convey it), so this is the best he can manage to make them understand. 

“Fighting partner. Ideologically opposed thwart companion. Friend. I would never put you in danger,” he insists, a little hurt that they would think that little of him. Though he can see how this whole situation could look like it was his fault. It’s not, is the thing--if he had never been a part of OWCA they still would have come for the kids. But probably a lot sooner, and definitely without anyone there to stop it. 

His family still looks unimpressed, and Perry breathes in deeply through his nose, then lets it all out before continuing. “I trust Dr. D. Everyone in the world that I trust is here.”   Then Perry smirks, looking straight down the table at his adversary. “Besides, beating him up was my job. He couldn’t hurt you if he tried.”

Heinz glares at him, clearly wanting to argue the point and for once knowing better. 

When no one has anything to say to that, Perry signs, “We should sleep. We can talk more after.”

Chapter Text

No one can even remotely deny their desire to curl up in bed, and fortunately for both secret agent and evil scientist the prospect seems to override curiosity and fear. Vanessa offers her bed to Candace (for which the redhead is supremely thankful), and Linda and Lawrence take Ferb into the guest bedroom with them. They’re anxious about the family being spread out across the apartment, but Perry promises them that if anything happens, he’ll take care of it.

Really, they have no choice but to believe him.

Heinz carries Phineas back to his own room. His bed is much more comfortable than the couch, and in his state the little guy can use any comfort he can get. 

Perry is sitting on the couch with Vanessa when Heinz returns. She’s coiled up with a book, and it’s only now that he realizes Vanessa is late for school. But given the circumstances he decides maybe it’s actually better if she stays home today. Just in case. 

“Boy, do you look tired,” Heinz says to Perry, leaning against the back of the couch. “Why don’t you go back with your nephew and take a nap?”

“I should stay alert.”

“Nonsense, look at yourself, you can barely sit up straight. You’re no good against OWCA if you’re exhausted, I can keep watch for you.”

“Dad, you’ve been awake for like two days,” Vanessa says pointedly, and both she and Perry the Platypus hit him with an unimpressed stare. 

He shrugs, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Well you should still sleep. You did say we not you. And your nephew shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up, waking up alone and injured in a strange place can really freak a boy out. Besides, you can’t be a heavy sleeper, right, don’t they train that out of you in the military?”

Perry looks unconvinced, but before he can argue Vanessa sighs loudly, dropping her book into her lap with an air of as much inconvenience as she can possibly project. “God, both of you are impossible. Norm!”

“Hey Sis!” Norm calls from his closet upstairs.

“Dad needs you to guard the door!”

“I’ll be right there!” Immediately Norm’s thundering footfalls sound above them and make their way downstairs. “Hi Dad!”

“Hello Norm,” Heinz says, slumping a little and trying not to sound too embittered. He's been trying to be better to Norm since Vanessa started playing into the robot's fantasy. And it is kind of his fault that Norm is the way he is, so he might as well take responsibility. It's certainly not going away any time soon. “Make sure nobody from OWCA gets near here, okay?”

“Does that mean I should show Perry the Platypus out?”

“No Norm,” Heinz sighs, “it does not. Leave him be.”

“You got it, Pops!” Norm gives a big thumbs up

“Now everything’s taken care of,” Vanessa announces, picking up her book again, “so both of you go get some sleep already.” 

“Thank you sweetie, you're the best.” Heinz kisses Vanessa on the head, proud of her for using it, and gives a cry of surprise as Perry takes him by the hand and pulls him down the hall. 

The first thing Perry does upon opening the door is swap out the nearly-empty blood bag for a full one. 

“His color’s coming back,” Heinz appreciates, standing at the end of the bed. 

“Thanks to you,” Perry tells him.

“Ha! I just happen to be accident prone. You were really something. I didn't know you had medical training. I don't think I saw your hand shake even once!”

Perry smiles and tucks his nephew in, looking even more exhausted than before. He drapes the boy’s IV arm over the side of the bed and sits by his feet. “ OWCA requires basic first aid from every operative. I minored in field doctoring at the academy.” His teeth peek through his smile. “I always thought I'd be a doctor if the James Bond thing didn't work out.”

“What, not a cop or a firefighter? Or a movie star? So you do it to assuage a savior complex, right?” Heinz accuses, and Perry rolls his eyes. “No, I--I’m just joshing you, Perry the Platypus, clearly it came in handy. Imagine--”

Perry interrupts, shaking his head and signing, “The Platypus is dead.”

Heinz frowns. “Hoo boy. I hadn't thought about it, but I guess you're right. It's uh, going to be weird though. That's all I've ever called you. Are you sure…?”

Perry seems to give it some real consideration. After some clear internal conflict, Perry nods resolutely. “Don't mind it from you, but I should cut every tie.” 

Heinz resists the urge to tell Perry that he already looks the part. Barely. But he manages. He looks so weird without the hat, naked even while fully clothed. His typical bright blue fight-friendly suit wasn’t even on when he showed up, and he looks so worn out, bruises starting to become visible on his face and hands. He reminds him of someone, though he can’t remember who. 

“What do I call you then?”

Perry looks up at Heinz with such exasperated affection that it sets Heinz’s heart beating faster, and finger-spells his own name.

“Right,” Heinz tries to laugh it off. “Perry the Human! Or… just Perry.”

Perry points and churrs, which Heinz takes as encouragement. Then Perry scoots over to the other side of the bed, laying one well-hidden arm over his nephew’s chest. 

“Good idea,” Heinz agrees, as if he’s been asked a question. “I’ll set up the blow up mattress, it’s here in my closet somewhere… What do you want?” On his way to the closet Perry had wrapped a hand around Heinz’s fist. His hands are so small and soft compared to his own. The palms, at least. They don’t carry all the blisters and scars from metal work like Heinz's do. 

Perry shakes his head, giving his hand a light tug. “What?” Heinz asks. “I promise I’ll sleep, I just have to get the air mattress set up--” Perry lets out a sigh and pulls harder, patting the open space of sheet beside him with his free hand. Heinz can’t help the flush that blossoms in his cheeks as his knees bumped against the mattress. He shakes off Perry's hand and crosses his arms, trying to mask his anxiety with a stern facade.

“Perry the--uh. Perry.” He sighs, throwing his head back briefly. “It just feels so incomplete! Ugh, Perry I am not going to fall asleep in the same bed as your injured nephew.”

Perry rolls his eyes. “It’s a big bed, Heinz, and I’m in the middle. You don’t need to sleep on the floor.”

“But what if he wakes up while we’re sleeping and he sees me and he gets all freaked out and it scars him for life or sends him into shock or--”

Perry heads him off by keeping a reasserting his firm grip on Heinz's wrist as he rolls over, pulling the taller man onto the bed. Heinz faceplants into the mattress and gives up. “Fine,” he remarks, as if agitated, “have your way, Perry the Snugglepus. But if little triangle boy gets freaked out, it is not on me.”

Perry gives him a thumbs up and Heinz thinks that’s the end of their exchange. He settles down under the covers (Perry is right, there is plenty of room). Before he can get fully comfortable, Perry sits up a little, pulling off his glasses and handing them to Heinz. 

“I see I’m not the only forgetful one in this relationship,” Heinz says with satisfaction as he sets the lenses on the nightstand. 

Perry grins at him, squinting a little, then rolls over onto his stomach. He keeps one arm slung over his nephew’s chest, as if to keep an eye on his breathing, and the other he glues to his side. Heinz wouldn’t have taken him for a stomach sleeper. It’s cute. The pair of them are cute. With Phineas tucked under the covers it’s easy to imagine that he’s just tuckered out after an all-nighter building things with Uncle Perry (if he remembers correctly, this was the kid who took the lead on the giant sprinkler system during the revolting-inator fiasco).

As Heinz dozes off, he feels the fingers of Perry’s near hand curl into the spaces between his own, squeezing his palm just a little bit. Heinz smiles and squeezes back, his chest warm and tingly. 

It’s been a really weird, really shitty night. But not everything about the past nine hours has been entirely  terrible. This moment right here, for instance; the only thing he would ever consider trading it for would be the assured safety of all the people currently in his home.