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Perry knows it’s a bad idea taking in Harry and Kyra from the word go. Sure, they’re pleasant enough (if pleasant is code for “insanely fucking annoying”) but he likes his life just the way it is. It’s perfect. He has just the right formula of work, money and fucking. Per-fucking-fect. But he can’t just abandon him. He knows he can be a dick, but he’s not completely heartless.
Unfortunately, he quickly discovers that whilst Harry himself is a pain in the ass, his daemon is infinitely worse. In Perry’s experience, daemons talk to daemons and people talk to people. Kyra doesn’t so much defy that convention as she does tear it down and shit all over it.
She starts off normal enough – if any extension of Harry Lockhart can ever be described as normal, and indeed it isn’t until after that crazy first week that Perry realises what he’s let himself in for. Because under that disarmingly sweet, brown furred body, she is crazy as a bag of cats.
---
It starts the week after he reluctantly allows Harry to stay in his house. One night, he’d growled, but a week has passed now and he’s not showing signs of budging. Perry’s in the kitchen, drying the dishes because he doesn’t trust Harry not to break anything, when she appears in the doorway.
“Serena,” she calls, and Perry’s lynx daemon unwinds herself from her human’s legs and hisses at the spaniel.
Perry turns, noting that Harry’s nowhere in sight. Still watching TV in the adjoining room, if the overly dramatic action music blaring from the doorway is anything to go by. He focuses his attention on the dishes again. Kyra is Serena’s problem, after all.
“Perry.”
Or not.
“Perry.”
He about turns again, fixing the daemon with a slightly self-conscious version of the stare normally reserved for Harry. Serena busies herself with licking a paw nonchalantly.
Traitor, Perry thinks, and she smirks.
“What?” he snaps at the spaniel daemon, annoyed at the situation he’s found himself in.
She grins, “Whatcha doing?”
He frowns, he expected something more important.
“Cleaning up, since your idiot doesn’t possess the brainpower necessary for anything more complex than vegetating in front of the box.”
“That’s true. I’ve got the brains in this deal. Pity I don’t have opposable thumbs.”
Serena laughs, and Perry shoots her an angry glare. When he looks back to Kyra she’s already trotting away to Harry, tail wagging as she goes.
“What was that about?” he murmurs to Serena, who shrugs.
“Beats me,” she says, and goes back to her methodical grooming.
--
About a month later, Perry’s lying in bed, trying to sleep. He’s trying but not succeeding because downstairs he can hear Harry thumping about like a baby elephant. He’s been out with Harmony again, so he’s almost definitely piss drunk.
Serena pads up from her customary spot at the bottom of the bed and lies down with her head on Perry’s chest.
He looks into her eyes and knows he’s going to regret this conversation.
“I like her,” Serena says, simply.
He sighs heavily, tries to turn away from his daemon, but she stands, puts one huge paw on his chest.
“And you like him,” she states.
“Serena, enough.”
They’re silent, and from downstairs the sound of Harry and Kyra drunkenly singing wafts up. It’s awful. And sort of endearing, Perry thinks despite himself.
“I’m going to tell her,” Serena says, but it’s an empty threat.
They’re still awake, lying in silence, long after Harry passes out.
--
Harmony breaks up with Harry after three months. Perry comes home one afternoon to find him sprawled on the floor, a half empty bottle of Jack seeping into the rug beside him. Serena gives a horrible yowl and springs towards him, only just catching herself before she touches him. For a minute Perry thinks he’s dead, then he realises Kyra’s lying cradled into his body, partially covered by his jacket. The relief he feels almost knocks him down, and he crouches on the floor, puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder and shakes him gently.
“Harry? Harry?”
Harry groans and tries to burrow his face further into the rug.
“Harry!”
Harry mutters something that sounds awfully like “fuck” and releases his hold on Kyra, who wriggles out from under him. She’s not very steady on her feet, and Serena presses against her, holding her up.
She stares up at Perry with mournful eyes. “She broke up with us.”
Harry moans into the carpet. Kyra leans into Serena, who nuzzles her reassuringly. For once, Perry doesn’t mind. He’s having a hard enough time trying to quell the disturbing urge to do something similar to Harry.
“Shit,” he settles for, because that seems to describe the situation perfectly.
“Perry,” Harry mumbles into the rug. “I love her.”
Perry sighs, and isn’t sure who he feels more sorry for. Damn, he’s a selfish bastard.
“Come on, Chief,” he says, patting Harry’s shoulder with more force than is strictly necessary. “I’ll make you a coffee.”
--
They’re working on a case – a routine stakeout – when Harry mentions it.
“I’m back with Harmony,” he says, sounding happier than he has in a long time.
“Good for you,” Perry snaps, acting like he doesn’t give a shit. “I was getting sick of being your only friend.”
Harry’s face falls, briefly, and guilt washes through Perry.
“Well gee, thanks. I thought you’d be happy for me. You know, since you’re my ‘friend’.”
Perry sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that-”
Serena, in the back seat, nudges at Kyra in apology, and for the first time, the spaniel growls at her; low and threatening.
“I’m sorry, Harry.” He drawls it out, nonchalant, all the while cursing himself for being such a spiteful fucking bastard.
“Just leave it, Perry.”
So he leaves it, and they sit in silence until the mark exits the property and they can return home.
--
It’s been a week, and the altercation in the car hasn’t been mentioned once. That’s not to say things have gone back to normal, because Harry’s been acting increasingly odd lately, alternating between overly loud and irritating, and quiet and pensive.
Perry pretends not to notice, but inside he’s terrified that Harry somehow knows.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Serena says. “Harry wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit him in the face with a brick.”
“It’s not Harry I’m worried about.”
“Kyra,” she says, and they both know the answer.
“You wouldn’t think a person and their daemon could be so different,” Perry muses.
“Maybe they aren’t. Maybe they just show it in different ways.”
--
One morning Perry wakes up to find Harry already in the kitchen, fully dressed and making breakfast. Normally Harry doesn’t surface until at least midday unless Perry yells death threats through the door.
“You’re up early, Chief,” he says, trying to keep the confusion from showing on his face.
“Yeah. I made breakfast, too.”
He sets two plates down on the table and they sit, awkwardly. Perry notes that the bacon’s overcooked, and he’s forgotten to put out sauce, but for once he keeps it to himself.
“So what’s all this about?” he says instead, and Harry looks uncomfortable. Under the table, Perry feels Kyra brush against him just the slightest bit, and he tries not to flinch, even though she’s only touched his trouser leg.
“I...” Harry pauses, thinking.
Under the table, Kyra nuzzles into Serena, and for a moment Harry’s face contorts in something like anger. It’s only for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough for Perry to realise it’s not anger – it’s more like discomfort.
“I didn’t want us to part on bad terms,” Harry says finally, and this time Perry can’t control the confused expression.
He opens his mouth to speak just as Harry says, “I’m moving in with Harmony.”
“Oh.” Perry’s suddenly incapable of coherent speech, it seems. “Well, that makes sense, I guess.”
“Thanks though, for, you know, taking me in. I’d have been totally fucked without you.” He says this sincerely, but Perry has a creeping fear that he’s placed emphasis on that word on purpose.
“It’s fine,” Perry says, and all of a sudden he realises just how much he’s going to miss having Harry around. It must show on his face, because Harry grins and says;
“Don’t worry, it’s not like you’ll never see me again,” and then he winks, and Perry doesn’t know if he’d rather kill him or kiss him right now.
“So… friends?”
Friends? It’s such a childish sentiment, and yet Perry feels himself grinning anyway.
“Yeah, Harry. Friends.” And he means it, because they are friends. Even if they’re never going to be anything else.
--
Harry still works for Perry, and since Perry works from home, that means Harry is still around the house most days. Things haven’t really changed much, in that respect. Harry still messes shit up, and spills food on every surface he eats from.
They still go on stakeouts together, where they bicker in the front, and Kyra and Serena curl up together in the back. Ever since Harry moved out they’ve been like this, and whilst it had embarrassed the hell out of both men when it first started, of late they’ve simply ignored it.
It’s not like they can tell them to stop, because that would involve drawing attention to the fact it’s actually happening, and neither of them want to do that.
They still go out to bars too, and get piss drunk, and if they walk a little too closely on the way to the taxi, and brush against each other a little too frequently, well, they can blame that on the drinks.
Really, nothing’s changed at all, except that at the end of the day, Harry goes home to Harmony’s apartment, and Perry goes home to an empty house.
--
Perry doesn’t know why he says it, and really he could kick himself the moment the words are out of his mouth.
They’re working in the office, or rather, Perry’s working, and Harry’s spinning round in his swivel chair, staring at the ceiling. Kyra and Serena, as usual, are sleeping in a huddle on the floor.
“You know, Harry, if it doesn’t work out with Harmony, you can always come back here.”
He doesn’t know why he says it, what is he, drunk? Thankfully Harry can’t see his anguished expression as he waits for an answer.
The other man stops his spinning. “Really?”
He doesn’t sound angry. In fact, he sounds eager.
“Yeah. Just if, you know, she kicks you out for being a shithead.”
“Well now that you mention it…” He trails off.
Perry stares at him, hoping his face isn’t still red.
“What?”
“We actually… We haven’t been, you know, together together for a while now. But I didn’t want to say anything in case you didn’t really… want me back.”
“What?”
“Shit, I should have said something. I’m sorry! It’s just, we were getting on so well, and I didn’t want to fuck things up again, and-”
“Harry-”
“But she’s got a new boyfriend and she says she doesn’t mind me sleeping on the couch but surely she must-”
“Harry!”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up, you can move back in.”
“Oh thank God. I thought I was going to be out on the streets again.”
Perry winces inwardly at the mention of “again.” He doesn’t know much of Harry’s life back in New York, it’s one thing Harry doesn’t really talk about, not directly. But he’s always been careless, unguarded in his speech, so Perry’s picked up a rough idea.
Kyra stands up, makes her way over to them, tail wagging. Harry gives Perry a strange look, a nervous grin, then he swallows hard, as if he’s nervous. Perry notes that he’s looking everywhere but at Kyra.
The spaniel’s stopped, she’s standing opposite Perry, tail still wagging, then she pads towards him slowly, deliberately.
Out the corner of his eye, Perry notes Serena watching them intently. Then Kyra places her head on his knee and stares up at him, unblinking.
He reaches out, and that’s when he notices his hand is shaking, so he buries it in Kyra’s ruff, gripping at the fur like it’s the only thing holding him to the earth. It’s wirier than he imagined it to be, and the contact feels like a thousand tiny shocks travelling up his arm. Harry breaths in sharply, then exhales in a wheezing laugh of relief.
Perry moves his hand, realising that he’s not breathing properly either.
“Serena,” he chokes out, but she’s already beaten him to it, nosing at Harry’s hand almost impatiently.
No-one’s ever touched his daemon before, and it’s not that he hasn’t had long-term relationships; he’s just never felt that urge before. To be quite honest, the idea of it has always disgusted him, because Serena is his. So when Harry scratches behind her ears oh so gently, as if he’s afraid he might break her, Perry thinks he might collapse from the sheer.. alienness of the sensation.
“You okay?” Harry says, letting Serena go.
Perry shakes his head, but he can’t stop a grin from bursting through, so Harry takes that for a “yes.”
“That was weird,” he muses. “But good. But really weird.”
Perry laughs. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
For once, Harry seems to know exactly what to do in the moment, because he reaches over and plants a kiss on Perry’s lips.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I won’t.”
--
Later that night Perry lies in bed, unable to drift off. Possibly it’s something to do with the way Harry is snoring away beside him, limbs askew and taking up much more than half the bed. Kyra is draped over his chest, her paws twitching as the pair dream.
And for once, he doesn’t care that he can’t sleep.
