Work Text:
Harmony was still in costume when Perry pulled up to the curb—hair teased, eyeliner smudged, handbag dangling haphazardly from her hand. His car rolled to a stop, sleek and out of place among the dented sedans and sputtering scooters lining the street.
He didn’t even bother turning off the engine. Just leaned across the passenger seat and pushed open the door. “Get in.”
Harmony groaned in relief, tossing her bag into the backseat before collapsing into the car. “You are officially my favorite person.”
“I should be,” Perry said dryly. “I’m the one rescuing you from whatever thrd circle of hell this was.”
“Fourth,” she muttered, pulling off the other heel and setting it beside the first. “They made us wait three hours just to say I ‘didn’t have the right energy.’ Which is Hollywood for ‘we already picked someone else.’”
Perry hummed, glancing over as he pulled into traffic. “You want me to find out who they picked and have them audited?”
Harmony snorted, sinking deeper into the seat. “You know, most people offer sympathy.”
“I’m not most people.”
“Yeah,” she said softly, smiling despite herself. “I know.”
He passed her a cup from the console—coffee, still warm. She blinked, taking it. “You got me coffee?”
“I’m not a monster,” Perry said, eyes still on the road.
Across the lot, a pair of actresses loitering near the studio door watched the car pull away. One leaned toward the other, whispering just loud enough for Harmony to catch it.
“God, her husband’s so supportive. Picks her up from every audition.”
The other sighed dreamily. “And in that car? He’s either rich or really in love.”
Harmony bit back a grin, hiding it behind her cup as Perry turned onto the main road.
“What?” he asked without looking.
“Nothing,” she said, far too casually.
He gave her a side-eye. “That tone says otherwise.”
She hummed into her coffee. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”
He arched a brow. “Because I picked you up?
“Because you’re rich and in love.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
The morning air still smelled faintly of rain, and the concrete shimmered in patches of sunlight as Harmony strolled down the block, coffee cup in hand. She liked this part of the day—quiet, peaceful, before Harry had even gotten up and before Perry had remembered to start complaining about emails.
Mrs. Salem, their neighbor two houses down, was already outside tending to her flowers, wearing her usual wide-brimmed hat and floral gloves. The woman looked up as Harmony passed. “Morning, dear!”
Harmony smiled, slowing her pace. “Morning, Mrs. Salem. The garden’s looking gorgeous as always.”
“Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” Mrs. Salem leaned on her trowel, smiling conspiratorially. “You’ve got quite the green thumb yourself. I saw your husband out here trimming the hydrangeas for you yesterday. Such a gentleman.”
Harmony blinked, mid-sip. “My—oh! Uh, actually—”
Mrs. Salem continued, blissfully unaware. “You’re lucky, you know. Most men wouldn’t bother with the yard work these days.”
Harmony’s brain scrambled to catch up. Trimming the hydrangeas? Harry could barely hold a trowel, let alone identify a hydrangea. The last time he’d tried helping with the garden, he fell into the azaleas.
Which meant—
“Oh,” she said slowly, realization dawning, “you mean Perry.”
Mrs. Salem’s face brightened. “Yes! Such a polite man. Always says hello when he’s taking out the trash. And so tidy! I never see your bins out for long.”
Harmony smiled, fighting a laugh. “Yes, that’s… very him.”
Mrs. Salem nodded, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “He reminds me of my Idris, rest his soul. Always so proper. You hold onto that one, dear.”
Harmony couldn’t help but laugh outright this time, warm and genuine. “Oh, don’t worry. I couldn’t get rid of him if I tried.”
Mrs. Salem chuckled, returning to her flowers. “That’s the spirit. You take care now.”
“Will do,” Harmony said, waving as she turned back toward the house.
The ER waiting room smelled like antiseptic and old coffee. Perry sat in one of the hard plastic chairs, arms crossed, watching a kid in the corner mash buttons on a Kindle. He could feel the beginnings of a headache blooming somewhere behind his right eye.
Harmony had been gone about twenty minutes. She’d twisted her ankle during some ill-advised attempt at running in heels for an audition (“Method acting,” she’d said when he glared at her), and Perry had insisted on driving her to the hospital.
He was halfway through scrolling his phone when she came limping back out from behind the curtain, an ice pack taped around her ankle and a small stack of discharge papers in hand.
“Well,” she said cheerfully, “no break. Just a sprain.”
Perry stood, pocketing his phone. “Good. You can still walk. You’re driving yourself next time.”
She smiled sweetly. “You say that every time.”
Before he could respond, the nurse who’d been helping Harmony followed her out—a young woman with kind eyes and an expression that said she’d been working too many hours. “Ma’am, before you go, just need to confirm something.”
Harmony turned, polite and patient. “Sure.”
“Does your boyfriend live with you? We just need an emergency contact listed at the same address.”
There was a beat. Perry watched Harmony’s expression flicker—the brief pause of someone calculating whether this was worth explaining.
It wasn’t.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “He does.”
“Perfect,” the nurse said, jotting it down. “You’re all set then. Take care of her.”
He nodded stiffly. “Always do.”
Once they stepped outside, Harmony winced a little as she hobbled toward the car. Perry opened the passenger door for her. “You lied to a healthcare professional,” he said as she climbed in.
“I avoided a thirty-minute conversation,” she corrected, setting her ice pack in her lap. “Do you know how awkward it is explaining that my boyfriend’s boyfriend drove me here because our boyfriend can’t drive stick?”
Perry shut the door, rounding to the driver’s side. “You could’ve said we’re roommates.”
“I did that once,” she said, buckling in. “Then they called you my roommate-slash-husband.”
He sighed, pulling out of the lot. “That’s not even a thing.”
“It is now.”
A quiet moment passed. The city lights rolled across the windshield, and Harmony adjusted the air vent toward her face. “You know,” she said, “you do kind of act like a husband.”
Perry gave her a side glance. “You realize you’re just encouraging it.”
“I’m just saying, it's not wrong,” she said smugly, leaning her head against the window. “You even scold me like one.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You sprained your ankle running in heels, Harmony.”
She grinned, closing her eyes. “See? Exactly like that.”
The fundraiser was exactly as unbearable as Perry had expected—all expensive cologne, forced laughter, and people who’d never worked a day in their lives pretending they understood the concept of a “tight budget.”
Harry was not invited. Perry had refused to relive the “incident” with the art dealer and the missing cufflinks ever again.
Which was how Harmony ended up on his arm instead, all soft curls and a navy dress that made at least four of his coworkers forget how to talk properly.
“Remind me,” she said under her breath as they crossed the marble foyer, “why you didn’t just come alone?”
“Because,” Perry muttered, “these things are easier when people think you’re halfway normal. Normal people have dates.”
Harmony grinned, tilting her head toward him. “You think I make you look normal?”
“By comparison, yes.”
She laughed—the kind of laugh that turned heads. Perry sighed. Mistake number one.
By the time he found himself cornered in conversation with a producer who thought “networking” meant name-dropping every celebrity he’d ever met, Harmony had drifted a few steps away—charming, smiling, chatting easily with a cluster of guests near the bar.
Then, of course, some guy decided to test his luck.
He was tall, tan, and definitely one of the producers — the kind of man who made his living pretending to be interesting. “You were in that car commercial, weren’t you?” he said, stepping a little too close to Harmony. “The one with the beach and the dog? I knew I recognized you.”
Harmony smiled politely, inching back half a step. “Yeah, that was me.”
“I could never forget that smile,” the man said, in a tone that Perry's sure probably worked on most women.
Perry could practically hear Harry’s voice in his head. “If anyone so much as looks at her wrong—”
He sighed, muttering a quiet “Fucking Christ,” under his breath, and made his way over.
He walked over, straightening his back, and rested a casual hand at the small of Harmony’s back—subtle, but firm enough that the guy noticed. “She’s with me,” he said, calm but with that edge that carried a warning.
The producer blinked, recalibrated, then laughed awkwardly. “Right, of course. My mistake.”
He disappeared faster than Perry could roll his eyes.
Harmony looked up at him, amusement flickering in her gaze. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did,” Perry said. “Harry would kill me if I let something happen to you.”
She arched a brow, smiling just a little. “That’s the excuse you’re going with?”
He took a slow sip of his drink, ignoring the warmth creeping up the back of his neck. “It’s not an excuse. It’s logistics.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Sure it is, husband.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer. Just handed her his glass. “You look like you could use this more than me.”
She took it, sipping with a grin. “You’re a good gay husband, you know that?”
“I’m an excellent gay husband,” he said dryly, guiding her back toward the crowd. “Now let’s make an appearance for another half hour so I can go home and pretend I didn’t just threaten a guy who probably makes triple my salary.”
“Deal,” she said, looping her arm through his. “But I’m telling Harry about this.”
Perry groaned. “Please don’t.”
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, I definitely am.”
Perry didn’t know how, exactly, he kept ending up in situations like this.
He should’ve known better. Should’ve seen the signs when Harmony had looked at him over breakfast with that particular innocent expression and said, “Hey, you’re free today, right?”
Now here he was, standing in the middle of a mall, holding three shopping bags and a cup of coffee that wasn’t his, while Harmony drifted from storefront to storefront with the purpose and precision of a shark.
“I told you,” he said, dodging a stroller, “we could’ve just ordered something online.”
Harmony shook her head, clutching her coffee like it was keeping her alive. “He deserves a thoughtful gift.”
“He deserves a muzzle,” Perry muttered.
“Well, that's not an acceptable birthday gift,” Harmony said, not even looking away from the store window.
They’d already been through three shops, all of which Harmony found exactly nothing at. Perry had suggested a dozen different gifts. Each one rejected with the same wrinkled nose.
Now they were standing outside a store filled with glittering shelves and prices that made Perry’s soul sob.
“I’m not going in there,” he said flatly.
“Oh, come on,” Harmony said, tugging on his sleeve. “They have good cologne.”
“He already smells fine.”
“See, I know you don't think that.” She dragged him in anyway.
Inside, the store smelled like money and bergamot. Everything gleamed—glass counters, marble floors, salespeople with smiles too sharp to be real. Perry immediately regretted every life choice that had led him here.
Harmony was already flitting toward a display of cologne bottles shaped like tiny sculptures. "okayy, this one smells like cedar and.. ambition? That's fun."
Perry arched a brow. “What does ambition smell like?”
“Expensive,” said the salesman who had materialized beside them, smooth as a shark cutting through water. “It’s one of our most popular scents. A classic choice for the discerning gentleman.”
Harmony smiled, all charm and easy laughter. “See, Perry? It’s perfect. He is a discerning gentleman.”
Perry gave her a look that could’ve curdled milk. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Immensely.”
The salesman turned to him with a knowing grin. "Wife convinced you to a shopping day?”
Perry blinked. Once. Twice. Then, with all the weariness of a man who’d long since accepted the futility of correcting the universe, said, “Yeah. That's what's happening here.”
Harmony almost choked on her latte.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” the salesman said warmly. “She’s got good taste. You’re a lucky man.”
Perry pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have no idea.”
When the salesman moved off to grab a sample, Harmony leaned in, whispering, “You didn’t even try to fix that.”
“I’m tired, Harmony,” Perry said, rubbing a hand over his face. “If I start explaining us to strangers, I’ll die of exhaustion before we reach the food court.”
She grinned, wicked and amused. “Harry’s gonna love this.”
“I know,” he sighed. “That’s the worst part.”
She giggled and sprayed the tester cologne on her wrist. “You think he’d like this?”
Perry sniffed, then made a face. “He’ll probably eat it if you give it to him.”
“Perfect,” Harmony said brightly. “Put it in the basket.”
Harmony was already halfway through the bullpen by the time Perry spotted her, light glinting off her sunglasses as she waved.
“Lunch break!” she called cheerfully, ignoring the heads that turned. “C’mon, Harry said you’ve been glaring at that computer for two hours straight, you’re gonna get permanent forehead lines.”
“I don’t get forehead lines,” Perry muttered. “And you can’t just—”
He didn’t even finish before she was leaning against his desk, plucking his pen from his hand. “Relax, I’m rescuing you from yourself.”
A few desks away, Harry emerged from the break room holding a cup of coffee that definitely wasn’t his. “Hey, look who’s here! Harmony, you’re a vision. Perry, did you tell her she’s a vision? Because she’s a vision.”
Perry sighed. “She’s loud, is what she is.”
“Loud and a vision,” Harry said, unbothered, as he strolled over.
Harmony grinned. “You guys done? I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” Perry said, standing. “Let me just—”
And that’s when it happened.
A new hire—fresh out of college, shiny badge still on his lapel—walked past and smiled at Harmony. “You must be Mr. van Shrike’s wife, right? Nice to finally meet you.”
Perry froze.
Harmony blinked.
They shared a look—one of those silent, tired ones that meant again?
Normally, they’d just let it go. Perry would offer a polite non-answer, Harmony would smile, and life would move on.
But Harry looped an arm around Perry’s waist in one smooth, practiced motion and leaned in, all easy grin and shameless confidence. “Babe,” he said, far too loud, “you didn’t tell me you were married.”
The kid’s smile faltered. “I— I thought—”
“Oh, no,” Harry continued breezily, resting his head on Perry’s shoulder like he was posing for a magazine cover. “Common mistake. But they do call him Gay Perry, right? Not Allegedly Gay Perry.”
Perry closed his eyes. “Harry.”
Harmony had her hand over her mouth, vibrating with laughter.
Harry patted Perry’s chest. “What? Gotta clear up the confusion. Poor guy thought you had a wife.”
The new hire, now looking like he wanted to dissolve into the carpet, stammered something about getting back to work and fled.
When he was gone, Perry exhaled slowly through his nose. “You enjoy making my life difficult, don’t you?”
Harry beamed. “More than anything, sugarlips.”
Harmony finally lost it, laughing so hard she had to hold onto the desk. “Oh my god. His face! Harry, that was evil.”
“Thanks,” Harry said proudly. “I work hard at it.”
"Come on, homewrecker," Harmony muttered between laughs. "Stop terrorizing my husband and lets go eat."
Perry groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re both insufferable.”
“Aw,” Harry said, moving his arm up and around Perry's shoulders. “Don’t act like you don’t love us.”
“I don’t,” Perry said flatly. “In fact, I’m considering a restraining order.”
Harmony snorted. “Good luck enforcing it when we live in the same house, hubby.”
That earned her a sharp side-eye, but she only smiled wider, completely unbothered.