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Perry hated it when Harry was put on painkillers. He was incredibly loud, talkative, and squirmed way too much. It was like the medication amplified every single one of Harry's most annoying qualities and then some. It was hard enough to deal with Harry when he wasn't under the influence of medicine; he already acted like an overgrown five year-old, after all. When the painkillers interfered with what little bit of common sense the other man had, however, Perry couldn't even use a bit of fear as a motivator to get Harry to behave.

The blond couldn't decide which was more difficult: getting Harry into the car and safely home without incident, or figuring out what to do with him once he finally got the shorter man into the house. On the way home from the emergency room, Harry liked to play with the radio and turn it up loud enough that the bass made the entire car vibrate. Whenever Perry managed to swat his hand away enough for him to get discouraged, the brunet would take to playing with Perry's phone - at least, he used to. After he'd deleted half of the P.I.'s contacts, Perry had learned to keep his cell safely hidden - or entertain himself by distracting his lover. He would slump down in his seat and turn so that his cheek was resting against the edge of his seat, before giving the taller man a goofy grin and talking to him non-stop about anything he could think of. By the time Harry would become interested in getting more hands-on with distracting Perry, they were usually almost home.

Once inside, Perry would guide Harry up to their bedroom. He would make up several excuses as to why he didn't need to go to bed, and each word out of his mouth sent Perry that much closer to losing his cool (To his credit, he managed to keep calm for longer periods of time when Harry was like that. It wasn't his fault, after all. Perry certainly could blame him, but that didn't seem very fair.) Harry would resort to whining and trying to shove the taller man away, both of which proved to be rather ineffective; drugged Harry or not, Perry was always determined to get his way. Most of the time, Harry would noisily complain as Perry helped him put on his pajamas, and by the time his head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep.

Other times, however, things would go a bit differently. Like the night after they had finished dealing with a grumpy old man and his equally grumpy dog.

That particular night had resulted in over five hours at the ER. As per usual, Perry had escaped their little misadventure with only a few cuts and bruises. The same couldn't be said for Harry. The poor man seemed to have a certain scent about him that the old man's dog didn't like and, before anybody had the chance to think, the animal had snapped at Harry, catching his arm. The bite wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, but it bled like the dog had severed his hand. After x-rays, bandages, stitches, more painkillers, and an update on Harry's tetanus shots, they had been permitted to leave.

The drive home had actually been quite uneventful. Harry dozed off at some point and only the sound of his quiet snores filled the vehicle. At their house, once Perry had gently woken the other man, they made it up to their room with little incident. Harry didn't seem interested in arguing that night, which Perry was incredibly grateful for; something about dog bites and the possibility of rabies just didn't sit right with him.

The blond helped Harry into a pair of dark blue pajama bottoms before attempting to tuck him in. Before he could pull the sheet up, Harry's uninjured arm latched around Perry's neck and pulled him down so that they were mere inches apart.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, trying his hardest to sound annoyed.

The shorter man gave him a crooked smile. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"... You cannot be thinking about sex right now, Harry."

"Mind outta the gutter, Per! Sex is the furthest thing from my mind right now. Well, okay, not completely true. The image of my grandma in the tub is in first place of 'Shit I'm definitely not thinking of right now'. Relax." He leaned up, mindful of his other arm, and quickly kissed the blond. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going anywhere fast."

"If you wanted me to lay down with you, you could've just asked, dipshit." Perry pulled himself out of Harry's grip and climbed over him, settling beside him. He draped his arm over Harry's waist and propped himself up on his elbow. "Okay, now go to sleep."

"Not yet."


"Can't I just bask in our manly cuddling for a little while?" Harry gave a triumphant grin when Perry's lips quirked upwards, "Ha! You smiled, so you gotta be nice and lemme do what I want."

He scowled. "Ten minutes, chief."

"Fine, fine." The brunet closed his eyes and fell still. Just as Perry was about to pull away so he could get changed himself, Harry spoke up. "So, hey, how come the dog didn't bite you? D'you think maybe it's something to do with the stereotype of how well gay guys treat their pets? Or maybe it's 'cause I was the one who had to dive into that dumpster so you wouldn't ruin your French shoes."

Perry quirked a brow, hoping the smaller man would end up talking himself to sleep. "Italian shoes, Harry."

"Whatever, they're kinda close to each other or something. Anyways, we're buying me something expensive so you can't just keep using that excuse, okay? You always make me shower afterwards, and that's getting annoying to have to keep that up, y'know? Yeah, I know I need to shower anyways, but having you stand over me and nag me like you're my mom or something is getting old. And you shower everyday anyways, so what'd be the problem with getting a little dirty first? Personally, I think you're scared of-"

Before he could say another word, Perry's arm moved in favor of tickling the other man, ripping a shriek from his lips. Harry couldn't shove Perry away; he was too busy laughing - giggling, really. The man giggled - to try. It went on for a few minutes, Perry effectively finding all of the brunet's ticklish spots, and Harry trying in vain to push his hand away while hoping to catch his breath. Only when his abdomen started to hurt and tears of laughter formed in his eyes did Perry stop.

Harry took a moment to calm down enough to pout up at the other man. "What'd you do that for?"

"To shut you up. Time for bed, anyways." When Harry's response was to huff and roll over so that his back was against Perry's chest, the blond smirked. "I never realized that tickling you would make you giggle like a little girl."

"... Shut up, Per."



'So, hey, me again. Y'know, the weird guy who keeps narrating his entire life story for you? Whoever you are. Anyways, Perry's outta the house at the moment so I thought now would be as good a time as any to update you a bit on all the shit that's been going down. And holy fuck, has some serious shit gone down in the past few days.

We had a huge fight. I know, more boring relationship stuff. If it bothers you, take a hike, 'cause you know I'm gonna keep going on about it anyways. And, I know it's no big secret that we argue - well, no, we don't. Webicker. There's a difference in the two words, as Perry's smug ass self recently informed me. Anyways, yeah, we bicker. Seems kinda just how our relationship should work. We both love to complain, namely about each other. We know what buttons to push and which ones to stay away from (for instance, he doesn't call me 'stupid' and I sure as hell stay away from 'queen'. Seriously, I said it one time and the guy punched me in the arm! Thought it was gonna fall off, which would've really pissed me off 'cause it's the arm with five fingers still attached to the hand. I still dunno what the fuck it is with that word, he just isn't a fan of it, I guess. ... Oh, right, on with the point of the story). We can spend all day complaining and still go to bed without Perry having that annoyed twitch in his eye or me rolling over and turning my back to him - don't knock it, it actually fucking works with him.

But when I say "we had a huge fight" I don't mean we argued for hours over who was supposed to wash the dishes or some shit like that. We actually had afight. There was yelling - holy shit was there a lot of yelling - and we even shoved each other a few times. You know that weird vein-popping-out thing Perry can get on his forehead when he's really pissed? No? Well, now you do, congratulations. Anyways, I've never seen that vein so fucking big before. I swear he was about two minutes away from it bursting right outta his forehead and beating me to death with itself. That's some visual, huh? Try thinking about that tonight and then go to bed. Guarantee you won't sleep. Anyways, the part that really gets me about this whole fucking mess, besides Perry's murderous vein, I mean, is that the fight was all my fault. I really blew shit outta proportion, 'cause I'm a total fucking idiot and a crappy boyfriend - is that what we should call each other? What other words are there? Yeah, boyfriend works. But, before I get off topic (like that hasn't happened twenty times already. I know, shut up) it wasn't a big deal, the actual thing we were fighting about. Guess I should give you a bit of background on that, huh?

Perry really is a sweet guy. He'd never admit it and most people would laugh if I told them, but it's the truth, okay? He definitely has his own way of showing it, but I understand him well enough to know when he's being a caring guy or just making jackass comments. Perry's way of showing that he cares is by berating me. Sounds fucked up, but that's just how he is. Whenever he's worried about me, he gets angry or annoyed or whatever, and it doesn't bother me anymore. His words are an outlet for all of his emotions, gay as that statement may seem. And the other day, I guess I felt like I was sick of it. Maybe I'm still not used to someone giving an actual crap about me, even if they have a fucked up way of showing it, according to some standards of normalcy in society or something.

We were out on a case on some rich guy's property. We knew there was some security inside the house, but we didn't even think about the outside. There wasn't a fence or any signs or anything, so there wasn't a single reason to assume differently. We quickly found out there were a few guards that walked around the house at all hours of the night. Well, Ifound that out, after a big sonuvabitch knocked me out with one swing. I wasn't out for very long, I think. Not sure, 'cause when I woke up I was in Perry's car, and he was driving home with Mr. Vein stopping by for a visit. As soon as I sat up, he started venting. And god, when he gets going, it all seems to run together without him taking a breath...'

"What kind of moron lets a guy that fucking huge sneak up on him? It was totally quiet outside, how did you not hear him? I leave you alone for five goddamn minutes to stop you from whining about how you're 'ready to go solo', and this is the way you prove that to me? Jesus fucking Christ, Harry. You could've shot yourself in the foot and I would be more inclined to believe you're ready to go solo than what I am right now! Do you realize how many times you've been injured this year? I hope so, because I fucking lost count after February. It is not humanly possible to behave as carelessly as you do." Perry carried on for a few more minutes, and Harry let him.

His head was pounding painfully where the large guard had hit him. He wasn't even sure where he'd been hit; it felt like the man had just taken a two-by-four and smacked him repeatedly until not a single inch was left unharmed. Perry's words seeped through the pounding somehow, and only added to Harry's growing irritability. He was already pissed off at himself for insisting he didn't need to be watched all the time, only to get attacked once he was finally alone. Heknew Perry had just been worried, but it felt like the taller man was adding insult to injury. Something inside Harry wanted to just ignore the fact that Perry was simply letting off some steam with no offense intended. And ignore it, he did.

"Well, excuse the fucking hell outta me for not seeing someone wearing a dark suit in the middle of the night!" Harry snapped as he clutched his head in his hands. Perry finally stopped his own angry rambles and glanced at the brunet. "I mean, fuck, Perry. You may be able to keep an eye on ten different things at once and still pay attention to the job, but I can't! You've been doing this for how many years now? I've been here for a little over a year, so why don't you stop being such a fucking asshole all the time and cut me some slack, huh?"

"'What the fuck are you talking about, Harry? I've done nothing but cut you some slack ever since you got here!"

"Don't make it sound like you did me some huge fucking favor by giving me a place to stay and a job! We all know why you really did that."

Perry shot him a glare. "Do tell."

'Aaaand it all went downhill from there. I know I'm a jerk for cutting that short, but it wasn't my finest moment, accusing Perry of letting me live with him 'cause he just wanted to get into my pants. I know it definitely wasn't true, of course. Just one of those heat-of-the-moment things that you end up regretting with all your might later on.

So, we fought for a couple of hours until we were both too tired to argue anymore. I slept on the couch, just to be safe, and lemme just say that that was the coldest, loneliest night of my entire life. I got up early the next morning and went out to think. I knew I'd been a complete dick, there was no question about it. I needed to figure out a way to apologize. Believe me, apologizing to the scariest person I've ever loved was not an easy subject to approach. Before Perry, I'd only ever been in relationships with women. That's all fine, but it didn't help much with thinking of a proper apology. Gay or not, men aren't women, which sucks 'cause I could've just gone on experience and had the whole thing figured out in like five minutes. Instead, it took me five hours, and I wasn't even sure if the apology would work or not.'

It was late in the afternoon when Harry heard Perry's car pull up. He quickly glanced around the main floor of their apartment, wondering just what the hell he'd been thinking. Surely this wouldn't work. It was just too simple of an apology. Perry deserved more, and probably expected it, too. If nothing else, he would get more pissed off at Harry for making such a mess. Before the shorter man could think any further on the issue, the door slowly opened and Perry stepped inside, his back turned to shut the door behind him. He paused, as if sensing Harry was nearby, and spun around. The moment their eyes locked a large lump formed in Harry's throat, and he forgot the apology he'd rehearsed the entire day. It was hard to read Perry's expression; did his quirked eyebrow mean he was unamused or perhaps still upset? Maybe he hadn't expected Harry to be home and he was trying to keep himself from exploding again?

Every table surface of the main floor was covered in a dozen roses, all of different colors. The brunet didn't even know if Perry liked roses, but it was a traditional relationship flower, right? He knew the colors were supposed to signify something, but he wasn't sure what and thought it best to just play it safe.

In his hands he held a bouquet of red roses and, before Perry could say anything, he all but shoved them into the other man's hands. "So, um, I got you some roses 'cause they smell nice or something?" The blond snorted, causing Harry to panic a bit more. Was that a good "oh you're being so adorably idiotic right now" snort or a "you've got to be kidding me, you fucking asshole" snort?

"Listen, I'm really sorry, okay? I totally didn't mean anything I said, I was just pissed at myself and I took it out on y-" The rest of his words were swallowed by Perry, who pressed their lips together in a firm kiss.

"You're sweet." Perry stated once he finally pulled away. "I mean, you're a dumbass, but you're sweet."

'And that was that. Stupid expression, but whatever. We spent the last few days having make-up sex every night and let me tell you, that's some of the best sex I've ever had. Seriously, he's a fucking animal sometimes, I- Oh, shit, he's home. More on this later.'

Perry walked up the stairs, mail in hand, to find Harry lounging at his desk. "Dammit, Harry, are you talking to yourself again?"

"I'm not talking to myself, I'm narrating."

"Whatever. You got a letter from Harmony." He tossed the thin envelope at the shorter man, opening his own bit of mail.

"Who'd you get a letter from?"

"Geez, can't you recognize a credit card bill yet?"

"Credit-? Oh, shit, Perry, don't open that!" Harry lunged for the bill and tripped, falling to the floor, hard.

Perry merely snorted and unfolded the bill, eyes skimming over each charge. His grip tightened on the paper when he reached the end of the page, and he shot a glare at the man who was trying to scramble up off of the floor. "You paid for all of those flowers with my credit card?

"Uh... my bad?"



Perry wasn't a self-conscious person, at least not openly. He wore confidence very obviously on his sleeve, and people could just tell that he knew he looked good. He knew he wore the best suits with the most expensive material, and that they complimented his body, and he knew his hair looked perfect without having to glance in the mirror. However, there was one thing that he was never sure of, not even slightly. He was fully aware of the fact that he was a tall man, and that his weight was nearly the perfect ratio for his height. However, that didn't stop him from worrying every time he ended up with a man who was significantly smaller than him.

Harry was no exception. A voice would constantly pop up at inconvenient times, reminding him "Hey, dipshit, Harry's not exactly the strongest guy in the world." And every time, Perry would hastily shift his weight, begrudgingly noting that the brunet's breath's had become increasingly shallow. It didn't matter what they were doing, either: making out, having sex, or simply cuddling. Perry was always looking for signs that his added weight was causing Harry distress and, much to Harry's discontent, was never on top of him for very long.

Perry's constant movement to keep the majority of his weight off of the slighter man ruined a lot of what Harry liked to call "moments". They were cuddled on the couch watching a film in comfortable silence with Perry mostly blanketing Harry with his body? Like clockwork, he would move within a few moments. They were lying in bed making out or in mid-coitus? Perry would shift himself and totally ruin the angle they'd been working with so well. Whenever Perry forgot and they'd both finished, he was only distracted until he came down from his high. He would settle himself directly beside Harry and maybe nestle his nose into brown locks or perhaps rest his chin against Harry's shoulder. Either way, he would give the smaller man an apologetic kiss and drape an arm around his middle. Not that Harry minded, of course. It was all very endearing. The thing that bothered him, though, was the fact that such a thing was so strongly embedded into the confident, attractive P.I.'s mind. Quite frankly, Harry didn't understand what Perry was so worried about. Had he really never laid beneath a person who was taller than him or heavier than him and felt the comforting heat of being pressed between a solid body and a bit of furniture? It was a feeling that Harry had come to almost, sorta, really adore sharing with Perry. It made him feel inexplicably safe, as if the mere presence of Perry's warm, heavy body reassured him that the blond would always be there to watch out for him.

It pissed him the hell off when Perry would take that away from him. He'd promised himself to keep quiet about the issue. It obviously bothered Perry and he didn't want to call the man out on what was sure to be a touchy subject. Instead, Harry often opened his mouth to protest, barely catching himself before babbling on about some silly thing. When the look of desperate concern was gone from Perry's face, replaced with a slight, adoring smile, the brunet would finally relax. He couldn't rest otherwise, no matter how tired he was.

One night, Harry decided that enough was enough. He would get that feeling from Perry and he would ensure it lasted longer than a few pathetic seconds. He deserved that, he figured, and would gladly give up his remaining fingers to enjoy it. Fortunately for that particular night, they were both in a bit of "the mood", too tired to do the actual deed, but interested enough that a decent macking session would do the trick.

Everything went according to plan. Harry had insisted that they watch a film in bed - on the television he'd managed to convince Perry to put in the bedroom - and cuddled up against the taller man without a second thought. Before the first five minutes of the film had passed, their lips were locked and struggling to taste just a little bit more of the other man. At some point, neither of them were exactly sure when, Harry had rolled onto his back and tugged at Perry until the blond finally conceded and laid on top of him. Immediately, Harry stopped fighting for dominance and allowed Perry to do as he wished. Dominating the session wasn't on his agenda that night, after all. He was going to keep Perry blanketed on top of him for as long as he liked.

Harry could hardly breathe. Never mind the tongue down his throat; the heavier body covering his own knocked a bit of breath out of him in the most wonderful way. He didn't even bother trying to regain control of his breathing, convincing himself that it would just ruin the overall effect. He wrapped his arms around Perry, holding him as close as possible, reveling in the sensation of sinking just a bit further into the mattress. The smaller man's chest worked to keep that slight bit of air constant in his lungs, and it didn't take Perry long to realize. He started to pull away, causing Harry to frown into their kiss. The brunet held him even tighter, hooking a leg around the larger man's for good measure. There was no conceivable way he would let the blond off the hook so easily.

After minutes of struggling to pull away and stay together, Perry finally broke the kiss, the only thing he seemed to have control of at the moment. "What the fuck are you doing, Harry?" he demanded, his voice a confusing mix of lust and concern.

The slighter man gave him his most innocent smile. "What d'you mean, Per?"

"Don't play dumb. You won't let go of me."

"That's 'cause you're trying to move, duh."

"Of course I'm trying to move, idiot!" Perry grumbled. "You can barely breathe."

"I'm breathing fine."

He quirked a brow. "Really."

"Yes! I just so happen to very much like you being on top of me." Harry's smile grew, just before he pressed a quick kiss to the other man's jaw. "It's a nice feeling, y'know?"

"Oh, yeah. I totally enjoy almost suffocating under my boyfriend." The reply was dripping with sarcasm.

"At least I'm enjoying myself, instead of worrying so much about the guy beneath me." Harry sighed, "Just... let it go, Per. I dunno who the hell made you feel bad for being aperfectly normal weight for a guy your height, but they can go fuck themselves. I like you the way you are. And if you don't stop trying to not suffocate me, I'm going to talk all the way through the next musical you decide to torture me with."

Perry snorted, kissing Harry just above the eyebrow. "You already do that, idiot."

"Well, I'll try to stop if you knock off this bullshit idea you got in your head."


Harry grinned, running nine digits over Perry's back, his grip loosening just a bit. After a moment, he chuckled. "I just realized Mr. I-don't-like-labels just called me his boyfriend."

"Shut up, chief."



It was very rare for Harry to willingly do chores around the apartment. A majority of the time, Perry either had to yell at him to get anything done or he ended up handling things on his own. It had been much simpler, he realized, when he was living on his own. He picked up after himself and didn't let dishes pile high in the sink until literally every utensil in the kitchen was dirty. Harry, on the other hand, didn't seem to see a point in picking up after himself - "You're gonna make me go back and 'clean it properly', anyways!" he'd protested on several occasions - nor did he see a problem with leaving dirty dishes untouched for days at a time. Perry knew he could be a bit of a clean freak, he just didn't see the harm in asking Harry to clean the occasional plate or vacuum up the messes he somehow managed to make.

Late one evening, Perry came home to the usual clutter Harry tended to leave in his wake. There was no visible sign of where the shorter man might have gone off to, the blond noted with a sigh as he walked into the main room. He paused, trying to use the last bit of his energy to deduce what the brunet may have gotten himself into. His head titled as he heard a faint buzzing coming from the laundry room. Reluctant to find out what sort of mess he would find in there of all places, Perry quietly made his way to the small room.

He stopped in the doorway, spotting Harry standing in front of the dryer - 'holy shit, he was doing laundry'. Before Perry had the chance to make even the slightest sound of disbelief, Harry pulled out a dark fleece blanket and, without hesitation, hugged it to his body, reveling in its warmth and clean scent. He stood there for several silent moments, a tiny, goofy grin playing at his lips. Finally, Perry stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around the shorter man and holding the blanket firmly against him.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jesus Christ, Per! Do you have to walk through the house like a fucking ninja all the time? What's your deal, anyways?"

The tall man smiled as he pressed a slow kiss to Harry's neck. "You know I can't resist your being adorable."