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The fight is on.
Kick to the face here, a grab around the leg there; it’s the same thing every day. It frustrates Heinz more than he cares to admit, losing day after day, but he doesn’t let it get him down. He knows he’s going to win one of these days, and he doesn’t care how many bruises Perry the Platypus gives him before it happens.
Today is shaping up to be another loss, and Perry the Platypus is just inches from the self-destruct button on his latest inator. He’s sure he’s about to witness yet another failure, and then the front door opens, distracting them both.
Vanessa wasn’t supposed to come by until later, so he’s surprised to see her walk into the lab now. She’s followed by three other kids: a girl who looks about her age and two boys who look a lot younger. She didn’t tell him she was bringing guests.
“Hi, honey!” Heinz says. “What are you doing here so early?” Now that he’s said it out loud, it occurs to him that it might have come out wrong, so he adds a quick, “Not that I don’t want you here, of course. I just thought you were coming later, but if you wanted --”
“Candace and her brothers wanted to watch one of my movies,” Vanessa says. “So we’re gonna do that in my room, and you can keep doing your thing out here.”
“Is that Perry?” one of the boys asks.
Heinz looks down where Perry the Platypus had been standing, but it seems he’s left and another platypus has taken his spot. Heinz cocks his head to the side. Who’s this little fellow? And where did Perry the Platypus go?
The boy crouches down, and the platypus walks over to him. So is this his platypus? Can people even own platypuses? He definitely seems to know the platypus, and, if the platypus's instinct to approach him means anything, the platypus seems to know him, too.
Huh.
What are the odds?
"Hey, buddy," the boy says, scratching his head affectionately. The platypus leans into his hand, obviously content. This is yet another example of platypuses not all being alike: he’s sure if he were to try to pet Perry the Platypus, the guy would break his nose.
Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “Wait, Phineas, you know Perry?”
The boy -- Phineas, he presumes -- nods. “Yeah, he’s our pet!”
“And we can never get away from him,” the redheaded girl mutters.
Vanessa looks between Phineas and his platypus, confused. “Perry... is a pet?” She shakes her head. “You know what? That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve heard today.”
The platypus -- whose name is apparently also Perry? -- chatters.
Heinz watches Phineas and Perry for a few moments. “Well, he seems like a very nice platypus, unlike some platypuses I know.” Perry the Platypus wouldn’t let that boy pet him. If Perry the Platypus were here right now, he’d probably be hurting people or blowing things up.
Phineas sits down on the floor with his legs crossed, and Perry lies down with his head on Phineas’s calf. Phineas rubs his stomach, earning a small, content noise from the platypus, and looks back up at Heinz. “He’s the nicest platypus I know.”
Heinz isn’t quite sure what’s going on right now -- he’s not sure of the status of his scheme, he’s not sure why there’s a mindless platypus on his laboratory floor, and he’s not sure why the kids are staying here instead of watching the movie Vanessa mentioned -- and at this point, he’s made his peace with the fact that he’s never going to understand. He’s long-since learned that when he doesn’t understand something, it’s easiest just to roll with the punches, so he says, “Well, I don’t know how he got here, but you can take him with you to watch the movie if you want. The penthouse is pretty platypus-friendly.” And Perry the Platypus doesn’t tend to spend time in Vanessa’s room, so he doubts this Perry will be distracted by the smell of other platypuses.
“Thanks, Dr. D!” Phineas says with a grin.
He stands up and reaches down for his pet, but the platypus steps just out of reach. Confused, he tries to pick the platypus up again, but Perry moves away. Phineas crouches down and holds out a hand, and Perry walks back over, but when Phineas manages to scoop him up, Perry wiggles free.
“I don’t think he wants to watch with us,” the other boy remarks.
“Apparently not,” Phineas agrees, frowning. He looks over at Heinz. “I don’t know why he won’t cooperate. I don’t think he wants to go.”
Heinz waves a dismissive hand. “That’s fine; he can stick around. I wouldn’t mind have a platypus partner for once.” He pauses. “Platypus partner.” That’s an interest turn of phrase. There has to be an easy way to say that. “Platypuspartner... Platypartner...” That one makes sense. He’d be a platypartner. That sounds much more efficient than a platynemesis.
“Are you sure?” Phineas asks. “If you think he’s gonna get in the way --”
“It’s fine,” Heinz assures him. “Really, it’ll be nice to have him around.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Phineas says with a shrug.
“Alright, enough of my dad,” Vanessa says. “Come on, we’ve got a movie to watch.”
The kids all leave, and Heinz watches them go with a smile. They all seem like such nice kids. He’s glad Vanessa’s found a nice crowd to hang out with, even if two of them look like they’re half her age. They seem a lot more tolerable than her boyfriend Johnny.
As they close the door, Heinz turns his attention back to the platypus. “Alright, little buddy, since P--”
As soon as the door is closed, the platypus jumps into the air and towards the inator. His foot rams into the self-destruct button with ease, almost like he’s done it before. Heinz is too confused to stop him, and it’s not until the platypus reaches the ground, whipping out a hat in the process, that Heinz even starts to make sense of it.
“Perry the Platypus?” he says, confused. “Where did you…?”
Wait a second.
It was Vanessa’s friends’ platypus who hit the self-destruct button. It was the platypus who hit the self-destruct button who landed in front of him. It’s the platypus who landed in front of him wearing the hat that unmistakably belongs to Perry the Platypus. Does that mean…?
“Perry the Platypus, did you just let that boy pet you?”
Perry just stands there for a moment, like he’s not sure what to say or what to do. If it wasn't Perry the Platypus that Phineas was petting, Perry the Platypus doubtlessly would have let him know, right? Or does Perry the Platypus just think he's being too ridiculous to respond to?
It takes a few moments to get a response, and when it comes, it's just an awkward shrug. If the grimace on his face is any indication, Heinz has just stumbled upon a piece of information that he wasn't supposed to have.
"Is that what you do when you're not here?" Heinz asks. He's always wondered what agents did in their spare time, and it's not like Perry the Platypus has been very forthcoming with details about his private life. If he's found an opportunity to talk about it, he'd like to take advantage of it.
Perry the Platypus hesitates. Heinz has to admit, it was a pretty vague question. Maybe he should be just a little more specific.
"Do you know those kids?" Heinz asks.
Perry the Platypus gives a tentative nod.
"I figured you did," Heinz says. "You seemed really comfortable with them." He cracks a smile and adds, "I mean, when I touch you, you usually kick me in the face, so if you let that boy pet you, you must like him a lot."
Perry the Platypus clasps his hands in front of him , his gaze anywhere but Heinz’s face. He seems… uncomfortable. Did Heinz do that? He can’t imagine what he would have said that would make Perry the Platypus uncomfortable. He’s just trying to take an interest in his nemesis’s life. Isn’t that what good nemeses do? Perry the Platypus does it for him, after all, and he’s the best nemesis Heinz could ask for.
Maybe he should just leave well enough alone. Perry the Platypus has effectively thwarted his plans for the day; he probably just wants to leave. That’s fine. He has places to be, people to let pet him. He’s a busy platypus when he’s not here. He has a lot of friends -- friends he hasn’t even mentioned, never mind introduced Heinz to, apparently -- and that’s good. That’s great. It’s nice that he has friends. Heinz is glad his whole life doesn’t revolve around their daily battles. That’s… great.
Perry the Platypus slowly reaches to his neck and pulls off what seems to be a… necklace? No, a collar. He didn’t know OWCA agents were issued collars. Perry the Platypus looks down at it for a few seconds, then opens the platypus-foot-shaped locket. He holds it out, and it takes Heinz a couple seconds to realize that he’s supposed to take it.
Heinz gently picks it up -- he can tell that Perry the Platypus was being careful with it so it must be important and he’d hate to break it -- and looks at it. There are three pictures in it: two kids on the outer sides of the locket and a young platypus in the center. The two boys are obviously the kids Vanessa brought with her; they haven’t changed much since these pictures were taken. But the platypus…
Heinz looks down at Perry the Platypus curiously. “Is that you?”
Perry just nods.
“Aw, Perry the Platypus, you were so tiny!” Heinz gushes. “You were such a cute little baby!”
Perry the Platypus narrows his eyes and snatches the locket back.
“So you’ve known those kids for a long time,” Heinz presumes. “When he said you were his pet, did he really mean…?”
Perry the Platypus drops his gaze to the floor, almost like he’s embarrassed, but what’s there to be embarrassed about? Hasn’t Heinz told him enough stories about his own embarrassing childhood for him to realize that there’s nothing he could say to make Heinz think any less of him?
“So does that mean every day you leave, you have to go pretend to be just a pet?” Heinz asks. “You just have to let them pet you and swaddle you and you can’t do anything about it?”
Now Perry the Platypus seems even more embarrassed, and Heinz doesn’t understand. It’s not his fault if this is what he has to do. That’s just part of the job, right? It must be an OWCA thing. It’s not like Major Monobrow was going to pay for their agents’ room and board when he could just send them off with unsuspecting humans, and it’s definitely not his fault that the humans insist on touching him. Unless…
“Do you like getting pet?” Heinz asks. He can’t imagine that would be the case -- it just seems so unlike him -- but it’s almost starting to look like it. “Because, I mean, that’s fine. We all like weird things. You know, like I like eating ice cream even though I’m lactose intolerant, or taking those kids’ arts and crafts classes they have at the mall because they’re free and they don’t technically have an age limit, or --”
Perry the Platypus looks up at him with narrow eyes, clearly annoyed, and Heinz decides he should probably stop talking now. That look doesn’t answer his question, though, and he really would like an answer. It’s not often that Perry the Platypus talks about his personal life -- not that he’s talking; he’s a platypus, after all, and platypuses don’t talk -- so he’d like to take advantage of the opportunity while he can.
“Do you like getting pet?” Heinz asks again.
Perry the Platypus hesitates, then gives a small shrug -- seemingly a yes, but not a proud one. He still seems ashamed, embarrassed. Doesn’t he know that he doesn’t have to be embarrassed here? It’s a judgement-free zone. It’s always been a judgement-free zone. Perry the Platypus never judges him and his backstories; of course Heinz is going to give him the same respect.
He’s curious, though. It looks like Perry the Platypus really does enjoy being pet. It definitely looks like he loves those kids -- his owners, apparently, though it’s hard to imagine someone owning the guy. This “pet” side of him seems just as real as the secret agent side that Heinz knows, like he’s no more an agent than he is a mindless pet. Does he keep that side of him hidden for a reason? Is it just OWCA regulations? Or is it more than that? Is it to keep Heinz away from his less-guarded side, or can Heinz finally meet that version of him?
Heinz decides to ask what is probably a very dumb question: “Can I pet you?”
Perry the Platypus hesitates, and Heinz takes that as a “no.” He’s not surprised. This would be a level of vulnerability that most agents wouldn’t share with anyone, never mind their own nemesis. Heinz wasn’t expecting to get permission, and he’s okay with it.
But then Perry the Platypus drops down to all fours, eyes unfocused and looking in opposite directions. He looks so normal, like any other platypus he would see on the street -- which is surprisingly a lot; Danville is full of platypuses -- and had it not been for the fedora he still wears, Heinz may not have recognized him at all.
Is this an invitation? It is, right? Perry the Platypus wouldn’t just stand like that for no reason. He really is going to let Heinz pet him, isn’t he?
Heinz kneels down and slowly reaches a hand out to him, just in case Perry the Platypus wasn’t really looking for a pet or in case he changes his mind. It doesn’t happen. He just stands there, waiting. This is really going to happen. He’s really going to pet his nemesis.
Heinz gently places a hand on Perry the Platypus’s back, and Perry the Platypus doesn’t even flinch. He most likely can’t even see Heinz’s hand, and he doesn’t seem phased by that at all. It means a lot to him. This level of trust, of acceptance, it’s something Heinz has never seen before; it’s something no one has ever given him before. No one until Perry the Platypus, that is.
Heinz brushes his… fur? Feathers? He’s still not entirely sure what it is that covers a platypus’s body. Whatever it is, Heinz brushes it gently with his hand, and it’s just so soft. He wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting that little noise to come out of Perry the Platypus’s bill, a small, content chatter that brings a smile to Heinz’s face.
Heinz strokes his fur a few more times, admittedly still a little hesitant but not quite as much now that he knows how Perry the Platypus will react -- or, more specifically, now that he knows that Perry the Platypus won’t react. He doesn’t have to react, though; Heinz can tell he’s enjoying it, and he has to admit, he is, too. This is nice. This is better than he’d hoped for.
Perry the Platypus lies down on his stomach, then slowly rolls over onto his side, bearing his stomach. Heinz is a bit taken aback by that. He’d thought Perry the Platypus was putting a lot of trust in him by allowing himself to be pet while standing, but the fact that he’s willing to take his feet off the floor and still let Heinz pet him says more than any words ever could. Heinz has spent a lot of time with animals before. He was raised by ocelots, after all. He knows that animals like to have their feet on the floor, ready to run at a moment’s notice. To lie down like this is to give up all defenses, and animals usually hate to do that.
Not Perry the Platypus, though. Not around Heinz.
Heinz slowly reaches a hand to Perry the Platypus’s stomach. This might be going too far. This is personal -- far too personal for a nemesis relationship. But then again, so is petting in its entirety, and that hasn’t stopped them yet. He shouldn’t be so surprised when Perry the Platypus lets him touch him, but he is. He can’t help it. Perry the Platypus has been many things around him, but vulnerable is rarely one of them, and never to this degree.
Heinz strokes his stomach again, and Perry the Platypus gives another content chatter. He curls up a little bit more and pulls his paws into his chest. Heinz pets him again and again, and after a minute or two, Perry the Platypus closes his eyes. With his fedora pressed against the floor, only half-on his head, he really does look like a normal platypus.
But Heinz knows he’s not. A normal platypus wouldn’t let him pet them. He would have to earn their trust first -- something he would have assumed was nearly impossible for the longest time, especially for him. He never would have thought anyone would trust him this much, but he should have known better. After all, Perry the Platypus is the best friend he has. If anyone was going to prove that it’s possible to trust him -- that he deserves to be trusted -- it would be Perry the Platypus, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.