Work Text:
Traps. The thing that sets the lazy evil scientists apart from the dedicated. The basic tied-to-a-chair just doesn’t compare to something fun to escape, like that one with the saws in the lumber mill up in Oregon. Or anything in space.
And then there’s Dr. Doofenshmirtz. He falls somewhere in between, in that weird place few end up- slightly deranged but still kinda interesting. And usually not so weird that it’s just impossible to see where any of it even came from.
But then there’s today’s. A trap that honestly makes Perry wonder why. (And how.)
Seriously. Perry is inside a lightbulb right now. An actual glass bulb, with a screw thing at the bottom, and a glowing filament next to him that is making it rather warm inside the bulb.
How do you even make a human-sized lightbulb? For that matter, how do you even get the human inside it? Perry doesn’t even know that one- it must have happened while the camera was focused on the boys. (wait what?)
Anyway, Doofenshmirtz gets one minute to monologue today, then Perry’s breaking out. Yeah, usually he respects the monologue. But usually that respect doesn’t come with hoping he doesn’t get burnt.
If he wanted a longer monologue, he would have gone with an LED bulb. Or just not plugged the damn thing in.
So he gets one minute, before Perry kicks his way out of the glass bulb. It’s kind of a shame he’s not wearing his combat boots, the ones with the steel toes. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about stepping on broken glass. (And the boots give him an inch of extra height, which when you’re five foot four, is always kinda nice.)
Oh wait. Doofenshmirtz is speaking.
“Have you ever seen those cartoons, you know, where the main character gets a good idea, and a lightbulb pops up over their head?”
Perry nods.
“Well, clearly, the lightbulb is what gives people such genius ideas. So, I have constructed this -inator in order to steal all the lightbulbs in the Tri-State Area, thus rendering me the smartest person in the world!” He pauses. “I think.”
“And so with the power of all those lightbulbs and all those great ideas, I will finally be able to-”
There’s one minute. Perry kicks out the glass, except that doesn’t really work. It makes a hole about as big as his shoe, and no bigger. Damn. This must be reinforced glass. So clearly, he has to body-slam the glass to get out. (Yeah, yeah. Terrible idea, if you even think about it a little. But he’s not thinking, since it’s kind of hard to do that on like two hours of sleep.)
In the background, he can hear Doofenshmirtz complaining about how he’s not done monologuing yet, but oh well. Again, he’d rather not get burnt by the increasing temperature inside the bulb.
So he takes a deep breath, and slams himself out of the bulb. It hurts, because reinforced glass, and he’s pretty sure he got cut up a little bit, but that can wait. Now is time to fight, because that’s what nemeses do.
He launches himself into Doofenshmirtz with a flying kick, which knocks him back onto the ground. Perry lands neatly right next to him, pinning him with one knee on his chest and one hand around his wrists.
“Oh come on, you didn’t even give me a chance,” Doofenshmirtz complains, struggling to get free. When Perry only looks unimpressed, he continues with “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed would imply Perry actually got any sleep in a bed last night. (He did actually sleep, just at his desk, by accident.) It’s more accurate to say that his slightly more annoyed mood today comes from him accidentally putting salt instead of sugar in his morning tea. Which he did.
Which he then drank anyway. Hey, he needs the caffeine.
Perry rolls his eyes, then glances over at the -inator, internally smiling when he sees the self-destruct button front and center.
This is gonna be easy. As long as he keeps Doofenshmirtz from hitting him in the back- he definitely cut himself, so adding bruises on top of that would not be very fun- he can get in and out. And go continue doing paperwork.
So all he has to do is keep Doofenshmirtz pinned until he sees an opening, which isn’t hard (he’s actually pretty strong, but Perry is stronger, even injured and on two and a half hours of sleep), then make a break for the -inator.
Which means that’s exactly what he does. Even with a wild card of an evil scientist like Dr. Doofenshmirtz, Perry has seen enough shit to adapt on the fly. Even if it kind of feels like something in his back is ripping apart if he reaches his arm too far to one side.
Of course, Doofenshmirtz keeps up a monologue, even while struggling under Perry’s grip. Still on about the whole lightbulb and idea thing, of course.
“And- oh crap.” Perry stops short on his way to the -inator when Doofenshmirtz stops talking, then looks down. Did he step on something? Is something wrong? Did he hurt Doof more than he meant to? Doofenshmirtz doesn’t shut up unless something is seriously wrong, so...
He turns around, cocking his head to ask what’s wrong?
“Your- your back-” Doofenshmirtz says. Perry turns, craning his head to try and see what’s wrong.
Oh. That’s a lot of blood. More than it felt like, that’s for sure.
Maybe body-slamming through the glass, then subsequently ignoring the way that moving felt like fire under his skin was a bad idea, because that’s a lot of blood and he really liked this shirt. No amount of cold water and hydrogen peroxide is going to get those stains out.
Perry shrugs, then continues over to the -inator, smacks the self-destruct button, and covers his ears until the blast is over. When he looks back up, Doofenshmirtz is still standing there with a funny look on his face.
“What are you doing?”
It’s fine, Perry signs, before turning to leave. It really is. If he needs to do more than wait for it to scab over, he’ll go find another agent to patch him up. They’re all used to that at this point, given that OWCA medical is chronically understaffed.
“No it’s not- hey, come back here, I’m not done with you yet.”
Perry turns back around. What does he think he’s doing? Perry can take care of himself, dammit. He has before- it’s not like it’s anything new.
“I’m not kidding,” he says, marching up to Perry and grabbing his wrist in a literal titanium grip. “It’s my fault, let me stitch you up.”
Perry could break his grip if he really wanted to, but something about Doofenshmirtz’s face right now makes him feel like he should stay.
He does roll his eyes, though.
“I saw that, by the way. Now, sit there-” Doofenshmirtz points at a drafting table in the corner of the lab with a couple of rolling stools- “and don’t bleed all over my blueprints before I get back with the first aid kit.”
Perry does what he’s told, sitting on one of the stools and looking at a couple of the blueprints spread haphazardly over the table. The one on top is for today’s -inator.
Impress Perry the Platypus is written in one corner, circled multiple times.
And there are little hearts doodled around it, too, for whatever reason.
Before Perry has the chance to think about what that means, Heinz comes jogging back up into the lab, a large first aid kit in one hand.
“Okay,” he says, sitting down on the other stool, “how bad is it?”
Perry shrugs. Might as well see, then. He pulls off his tie, then his shirt, turning around so Heinz can see how bad it is. (Heinz audibly swallows at that, which is...another thing to think about later.)
“Yeesh, Perry the Platypus, how did you not pass out?” Heinz asks as he wipes away the excess blood with a washcloth. “You do know you don’t have to be all ‘it’s nothing’ with me, right?”
Perry huffs. Yes he does, it’s part of the job. Never let them know what’s wrong. Ever.
“I swear, you agent-types are the worst. Don’t look at me like that,” he says when Perry turns his head back to glare at Heinz. “it’s true. I- If you died from something like this, well, I’d miss you, you know.”
His voice has gone softer. Almost like he’s gotten himself lost in thought. Perry’s got this funny feeling in his gut, hearing Heinz speak almost...caringly about him. His nemesis.
It’s got to be nerves. It feels weird letting his guard down like this.
“And with you being gone,” he says, sounding much more like the Doofenshmirtz that Perry knows, “then what fun would scheming be?”
Whatever. Must have been a fluke.
Of course, it’s never good to piss off the guy patching you up. Sure, only one of the cuts needs stitches, which is good, but that doesn’t mean it’s not painful when Heinz starts covering the wounds in antibiotic ointment.
He kind of forgot how much that stuff stings.
Once he’s all properly bandaged, he turns back around to thank Heinz. Despite rolling his eyes about it, he really is grateful for the help.
“No problem,” Heinz says. “But I have to ask, is it really that hard to believe that I care about you?”
Perry looks away, down at the ground. Honestly? Yes. It is. Trust issues never go away. But somehow, he does want to believe that Heinz cares. And that he cares an awful lot.
Looking back up, he sees genuine concern in Heinz’s eyes.
And that’s when it clicks. Heinz doesn’t just care for him. Heinz is in love with him.
The more Perry thinks about it, the more he realizes that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t all that one-sided.
And then he realizes that he’s been staring into Heinz’s eyes for far too long to be considered appropriate.
I should go now, he signs, grabbing his shirt and tie. Thank you, he adds as an afterthought.
“Oh- okay. Um, stay safe?”
Despite himself, Perry smiles and nods.
I’ll try, he signs before pulling his hang-glider from his hat, tugging on the still-damp shirt, and soaring away.
If only it was that easy.