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This is the most well-received of my fics, and for good reason. It has everything: Perryshmirtz, second person pov, my sense of humour...
Title: In Which The O.W.C.A. Has Policies For Everything (But Still Can't Budget Their Way Out Of A Paper Bag)
Fandom: Phineas and Ferb
Ship: foundational Perryshmirtz
Rating: T for swearing and implications
Wordcount: 3,765
Summary: Perry the Platypus faces his most dangerous enemy yet... office gossip.
It's been far too long since you've had a day off, and you want to make the most of it. Carpe diem, as Phineas would say. And the best way to seize the day is obviously to search for a comfortable patch of grass under the tree and watch the boys make their project of the day for once. Or sleep. Probably sleep.
That's when your watch beeps. You growl at it tiredly, wishing you could ignore it for once. What does OWCA want from you today, anyway? You're still sore from yesterday, and you know Heinz doesn't have anything planned.
But you're a professional, and that professionalism is the only reason you drag yourself out of sight behind the tree. Once you're out of sight of the boys you pull out your hat, then answer the call.
Carl's face appears on the screen. He doesn't meet your eyes, instead looking down at a sheet of paper in his hand. "Agent P, can you come into headquarters today? It's about-" He pauses to adjust his glasses, but you can still see the shudder he's trying to conceal. "-yesterday."
Your stomach drops out from under you. OWCA knows. It's all you can do to keep your expression blank, professional, and snap off a salute.
The screen goes blank.
This is it then. You slump against the side of the tree, resting your head in your paws. It's probably against one of the rules you skimmed past in appendix three or something. One of the ones you never thought would be relevant to you.
Ignorance isn't an excuse. You failed to ensure you were doing your job properly, you have to face the consequences, whatever they happen to be. You expect you'll be reassigned. Or fired. Either way, you'll never see Heinz again.
Or your family.
You groan quietly. How far you've fallen, that that's the order they came to mind. Even so, you can't quite find it in yourself to regret your actions.
With one last glance over at the boys to engrave their image in your mind, you raise your head high and march to your fate.
The office is quieter than you expected. Only a few agents are awake at this hour, and they're all trudging wearily to the coffee machine in the break room. No one even looks twice at you, which you're thankful for.
You know it won't last, the rumour mill will start up later, when all the busybodies are caffeinated and ready to poke their noses/beaks/snouts all up in your business. Downside to always being busy elsewhere, your presence at Headquarters is a novelty.
Carl's office is out of the way, far from the higher traffic central area. Enough that you get lost a couple of times. You wonder if he chose it on purpose. As it is, it's reassuring. Less witnesses to what you're certain will be a painful conversation all around.
The door doesn't look much different from the ones around it, with only a small bronze plaque setting it apart from the rest. You knock, not sure what to expect.
"Come in," Carl says, so you do.
The actual office is cramped, more like a supply closet than anything official. Complete with a mop in the corner. You suspect it was a supply closet before Carl claimed it, that's the level of competency OWCA is capable of.
A desk takes up half the room, with a folding chair in front of it and a computer resting on top. Carl's on the other side, staring at the computer screen.
You close the door behind you, as quietly as you can. The click of the latch feels like finality.
He glances up at you, then turns back to the screen. "Take a seat, Agent P." You've been an agent long enough to recognise an order when you hear one, even when the tone says otherwise, so you sit down on the folding chair and rest your paws on your knees.
"I'm sure you know why you're here," he says, still not looking at you. Not that you can blame him. You wouldn't want to look at yourself after what you were doing yesterday either. "OWCA has policies about that sort of thing," he continues. "So what we need from you is, uh, I'll send you the file so you can read through it. Then you sign a statement saying you accept the agreement, and we'll take things from there."
You nod, because what else can you do? You work here, you have to follow policies, that's part of the conditions for continued employment. It's completely your fault if you didn't read the small print. Which you, of course, didn't. So you're fucked, and not in the fun way.
Right now, you'd rather have the fun way, with Heinz-
He coughs. "You can go now, Agent P."
All the other agents are hard at work in their cubicles when you return to the main office. Which is a relief, if you're honest with yourself. You never did like being the centre of attention. Far easier to work in the shadows, so you can be in and out before anyone notices.
Unless you get trapped, obviously, but you don't mind that as much as you used to.
You make it back to your desk without incident and sit down, kicking at the power button of the computer. Time to see just how badly you messed up. And finish up any paperwork you have left, of course.
It takes a few minutes for the computer to finish starting up so you can use it. OWCA's equipment budget didn't stretch to computers made this decade, you guess. But eventually it's ready, so you stop staring through the screen and log in.
An email notification pops up immediately. That must be the file Carl sent.
You glance at the filename as you open it. OWCAANIR.RTF? You don't remember seeing that before, although it's been a while since you've refreshed your memory of the rules. Probably too long. Then you notice the title of the document.
There's a policy for that? You had no idea there was a policy for that. Why the fuck didn't you know there was a policy for that, you could have saved yourself so much stress. You could have dreaded a certain future instead of an uncertain one.
Well. Now that you're here, you might as well read through to see what you're agreeing to.
You blink and read it again. Is it saying you won't be reprimanded?
As long as you don't let it affect your job, but you weren't planning on letting that happen anyway. Fighting Evil is your calling. You won't let anyone take it from you. Not your family, not OWCA, and definitely not Heinz, no matter how much you love him.
Official sanction to skip the details. Thank fuck. You were not looking forward to the idea of filing those reports.
Not that you get much of that, but good to know.
You can't tell if that's giving you permission, or if it's a trap, but you're inclined to think the former. If only from context.
Well, that and the fact Heinz isn't an agent any more, for which you're eternally grateful.
Oh fuck, the cameras. Somehow you'd forgotten they were used for more than just off-hours surveillance. That must be how Carl found out.
In a way, you're glad for the reminder. The only thing you want less than explaining to your superiors what you and Heinz do in your spare time is them watching it.
That's... fair. And something you refuse to let happen to you. Fighting evil is just too important.
A week is... generous. Suspiciously generous. You can barely manage to get a few hours off to celebrate your adoption day with your family, but OWCA can afford to give a whole week off for turning your boyfrienemesis Good? How does that even work?
You don't think Heinz is likely to give up Evil anyway. Not that you'd want him to, if you're honest. It makes him happy, and you don't want to deprive him of that.
It makes sense, you think. Make it a-
You abruptly hear the words "clean break" in your mind, in Heinz's voice, and resolve to kick his ass extra hard next time you thwart him.
It's not that you haven't forgiven him for dumping you, for Peter the Panda of all agents, but you haven't forgiven him for dumping you. Besides, sometimes he just needs an asskicking.
Somehow you're certain you wouldn't get sick leave even if you did manage to hurt yourself. It's happened before, with the Cone of Shame.
Heinz still has the photos.
That explains the secrecy, you guess.
You can just about hear the undercurrent of "we don't get paid enough for this". Mostly because you're all too familiar with the feeling.
You feel yourself blushing under your fur as you read the name of the site. You recognise it all too well, because Lawrence and Linda get packages from there all the time and it's always a sign that you'll need to avoid the sensory deprivation tank for a few days.
...What sort of strings did they pull to get that set up? Is that why you haven't had a pay raise in three years?
While it makes sense, part of you thinks this is related to the chronic lack of funds that have left you stuck with an older model jetpack, amongst other things.
Or, in other words, you're not being paid to resolve your relationship issues.
Somehow you're certain the main issue OWCA has with that is the idea of financing evil scientists.
...You also object to that idea, but for entirely different reasons. Your paycheck is small enough as it is, you don't need evil scientists splitting the pot further.
That's the third time that's been stated. You're not sure you want to know why. It's sure to destroy your faith in your coworkers, not that you had much of that in the first place.
The next page is mostly blank, only an unassuming form name and a line for you to sign on.
That's... that's it? No disciplinary action? No immediate reassignment? You were expecting something... harsher, considering who you'd done.
You read through it a few more times, to make sure there's nothing you missed that could come back to bite you. But there's not, it's all reasonable, and it doesn't put you on the wrong side of the rules. It's all so much better than you thought it would be.
As you go to print it, because there's nothing to lose from signing it, you find that someone's set it up so that the first few pages are specifically blocked from printing. You didn't know that was even possible. Luckily it doesn't block the last page, which is the only one you actually need, so you set that going. You need to stretch your legs anyway.
Agent A is waiting at the printer when you get there, and something about the way he's standing tells you he knows what the file you just printed is for. Then he winks at you, which confirms it. Fuck.
You do your best to ignore the bait as you collect the sheet of paper. It's not going to hold off the gossip for long, you know the rumour mill too well, but you want to stay out of the firing line at least long enough to disappear on your legally-required lunch break.
You'd underestimated the speed of office gossip. Badly.
There's already an email waiting for you when you make it back to your desk, and you can tell from the subject line that it has nothing to do with either of your jobs.
You slump onto your desk with a tired growl, not even bothering to open it. It's not like it's urgent.
Why do you have to deal with this. Why can't you just lie low until you're no longer the gossip of the hour, that would be nice.
It doesn't stop the emails pouring in, though, so you sigh and resign yourself to wading through whatever the rumour mill's spouting, which is sure to be wildly inaccurate by now... After you sign the form so you have a job to come back to tomorrow. You prop yourself up on one elbow and dig through your drawer for a pen, then scribble your name on the line. There, responsibility achieved, time to brave your inbox.
The first email is from Agent H three sections over. Great. Not only are you the laughingstock of this office, but apparently the whole organisation too.
You rest your head in your paws and sigh again. Sergeant Synonym's division and their animal-themed puns, you should have remembered. At least it was friendly. Again, better than you'd hoped for.
The next few have a similar sentiment behind them, which you're glad for. Another email is blank, with only the attached file drawing any attention at all. The file's name, OWCAANAL.RTF, doesn't bode well in the slightest.
Warily, dreading what you'll find, you open it.
It's worse than you'd thought, and your expectations were already rock bottom.
You feel your cheeks heat up at the phrasing. It's not that you're unfamiliar with the language used, you use it all the time. Mostly when Heinz is up to his usual shenanigans. Which is always. You're just... not used to seeing it in official-looking documents.
Even reminding yourself that this document is clearly not official doesn't help.
...You're starting to see why the official policy was so insistent on the "don't tell your superiors" point.
Especially if it resulted in days off. You love your job, but sometimes you wish you got some time for yourself. Then you might make a dent in the recordings of your soap operas from the last few weeks.
You like to think of yourself as too much of a professional to resort to that, but deep down you know you'd do it anyway if you ever got the chance. Or rather, you'd do him. Again.
That... makes a lot of sense. Carl's expression earlier was bad enough, you'd prefer to avoid any repeats of it with any other coworkers.
Now that you think about it, your training did involve a lot of talk about how fulfilling a proper nemesisship was. Which you suddenly see in a whole new light.
You're... not sure how to feel about this.
Honeymoon. You can picture it now. The two of you stumbling over the threshold to his woodland retreat together, fingers twisted together, rings glinting in the moonlight-
Maybe you should cut back on the romcoms. You've clearly been watching too many if you think Heinz would let you do anything without being trapped first. You love him, but he gets far too enthusiastic with the traps sometimes.
Speaking of traps, he still owes you a ring.
Been there, done that, he sweet-talked you into getting back together. So far it's worked out alright.
He's still getting that asskicking though.
Not that you were planning to do anything like that in the first place. You've seen the paperwork.
You stare at the screen, feeling your soul wither away. Why would- How would-
No. Fuck it. You're better off not knowing.
...Did everyone but you know? What the fuck.
Suddenly you pity all the unpaid interns. As small as your paycheck is, at least you get paid.
Is... is that Agent G, over in Accounting? You are learning entirely too much about your coworkers today.
You snort. They barely pay for your equipment.
So that's why Agent V was stuck with a broken grappling hook for six months. And here you thought it was the equipment budget again.
Like you'd give Heinz the responsibility. You trust him with your life, but that doesn't translate to trusting him with anything minor like being on time for important meetings.
Yeah, you're never looking at your coworkers the same way either.
It's the work of minutes to sort through the rest of the emails, by which you mean you're sorting all the non-work-related folder where you don't have to look at them. Eventually there's one more email waiting for you, from-
...Why the fuck does Heinz still have his OWCA-issued email address? You'd have thought they'd cancel that after he quit, but apparently not. Maybe it cost too much to pay someone for the few seconds needed to delete it. You're not sure why they were so quick to issue him one in the first place, either.
But he has one, and he took advantage of that to... invite you out to lunch? Of all the things he could do with access to OWCA servers, that's what he goes with? Something harmless and not particularly evil-
Unless he thinks dating an agent counts as evil. Knowing him, he probably does.
You'll accept, of course. OWCA can't stop you from taking a lunch break, and it'll be good to see him outside work, get to know more about who he is without the scheming. Somehow you suspect you'll still be subjected to a monologue or three anyway, because he really does take every opportunity to monologue, but he wouldn't be Heinz without them.
Even his emails are no exception. You can't help but smile to yourself as you read his rant on the different types of self-destruct button. Who would have thought there were so many? Not you, all you do is blow them up.
The sound of your fellow agents moving through the office pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance up. Lunchtime already?
You send a quick reply to tell him you'll meet him there, then stand and stretch. He'll be glad to hear the good news, and you're going past Human Resources anyway so you can hand in the form on the way.
You'd still rather have a day off, but this is the next best thing.
Title: In Which The O.W.C.A. Has Policies For Everything (But Still Can't Budget Their Way Out Of A Paper Bag)
Fandom: Phineas and Ferb
Ship: foundational Perryshmirtz
Rating: T for swearing and implications
Wordcount: 3,765
Summary: Perry the Platypus faces his most dangerous enemy yet... office gossip.
It's been far too long since you've had a day off, and you want to make the most of it. Carpe diem, as Phineas would say. And the best way to seize the day is obviously to search for a comfortable patch of grass under the tree and watch the boys make their project of the day for once. Or sleep. Probably sleep.
That's when your watch beeps. You growl at it tiredly, wishing you could ignore it for once. What does OWCA want from you today, anyway? You're still sore from yesterday, and you know Heinz doesn't have anything planned.
But you're a professional, and that professionalism is the only reason you drag yourself out of sight behind the tree. Once you're out of sight of the boys you pull out your hat, then answer the call.
Carl's face appears on the screen. He doesn't meet your eyes, instead looking down at a sheet of paper in his hand. "Agent P, can you come into headquarters today? It's about-" He pauses to adjust his glasses, but you can still see the shudder he's trying to conceal. "-yesterday."
Your stomach drops out from under you. OWCA knows. It's all you can do to keep your expression blank, professional, and snap off a salute.
The screen goes blank.
This is it then. You slump against the side of the tree, resting your head in your paws. It's probably against one of the rules you skimmed past in appendix three or something. One of the ones you never thought would be relevant to you.
Ignorance isn't an excuse. You failed to ensure you were doing your job properly, you have to face the consequences, whatever they happen to be. You expect you'll be reassigned. Or fired. Either way, you'll never see Heinz again.
Or your family.
You groan quietly. How far you've fallen, that that's the order they came to mind. Even so, you can't quite find it in yourself to regret your actions.
With one last glance over at the boys to engrave their image in your mind, you raise your head high and march to your fate.
The office is quieter than you expected. Only a few agents are awake at this hour, and they're all trudging wearily to the coffee machine in the break room. No one even looks twice at you, which you're thankful for.
You know it won't last, the rumour mill will start up later, when all the busybodies are caffeinated and ready to poke their noses/beaks/snouts all up in your business. Downside to always being busy elsewhere, your presence at Headquarters is a novelty.
Carl's office is out of the way, far from the higher traffic central area. Enough that you get lost a couple of times. You wonder if he chose it on purpose. As it is, it's reassuring. Less witnesses to what you're certain will be a painful conversation all around.
The door doesn't look much different from the ones around it, with only a small bronze plaque setting it apart from the rest. You knock, not sure what to expect.
"Come in," Carl says, so you do.
The actual office is cramped, more like a supply closet than anything official. Complete with a mop in the corner. You suspect it was a supply closet before Carl claimed it, that's the level of competency OWCA is capable of.
A desk takes up half the room, with a folding chair in front of it and a computer resting on top. Carl's on the other side, staring at the computer screen.
You close the door behind you, as quietly as you can. The click of the latch feels like finality.
He glances up at you, then turns back to the screen. "Take a seat, Agent P." You've been an agent long enough to recognise an order when you hear one, even when the tone says otherwise, so you sit down on the folding chair and rest your paws on your knees.
"I'm sure you know why you're here," he says, still not looking at you. Not that you can blame him. You wouldn't want to look at yourself after what you were doing yesterday either. "OWCA has policies about that sort of thing," he continues. "So what we need from you is, uh, I'll send you the file so you can read through it. Then you sign a statement saying you accept the agreement, and we'll take things from there."
You nod, because what else can you do? You work here, you have to follow policies, that's part of the conditions for continued employment. It's completely your fault if you didn't read the small print. Which you, of course, didn't. So you're fucked, and not in the fun way.
Right now, you'd rather have the fun way, with Heinz-
He coughs. "You can go now, Agent P."
All the other agents are hard at work in their cubicles when you return to the main office. Which is a relief, if you're honest with yourself. You never did like being the centre of attention. Far easier to work in the shadows, so you can be in and out before anyone notices.
Unless you get trapped, obviously, but you don't mind that as much as you used to.
You make it back to your desk without incident and sit down, kicking at the power button of the computer. Time to see just how badly you messed up. And finish up any paperwork you have left, of course.
It takes a few minutes for the computer to finish starting up so you can use it. OWCA's equipment budget didn't stretch to computers made this decade, you guess. But eventually it's ready, so you stop staring through the screen and log in.
An email notification pops up immediately. That must be the file Carl sent.
You glance at the filename as you open it. OWCAANIR.RTF? You don't remember seeing that before, although it's been a while since you've refreshed your memory of the rules. Probably too long. Then you notice the title of the document.
O.W.C.A. Official Policy on Agent/Nemesis Intimate Relations
There's a policy for that? You had no idea there was a policy for that. Why the fuck didn't you know there was a policy for that, you could have saved yourself so much stress. You could have dreaded a certain future instead of an uncertain one.
Well. Now that you're here, you might as well read through to see what you're agreeing to.
1. O.W.C.A. permits intimate relations between agents and their assigned nemeses, under the condition that the agents' work is not affected.
You blink and read it again. Is it saying you won't be reprimanded?
As long as you don't let it affect your job, but you weren't planning on letting that happen anyway. Fighting Evil is your calling. You won't let anyone take it from you. Not your family, not OWCA, and definitely not Heinz, no matter how much you love him.
2. Agents are not obliged to report details of incidents of intimate relations.
Official sanction to skip the details. Thank fuck. You were not looking forward to the idea of filing those reports.
3. Intimate relations are only to be pursued during agents' personal time.
Not that you get much of that, but good to know.
4. However, agents are still expected to use every tool at their disposal to complete their missions.
You can't tell if that's giving you permission, or if it's a trap, but you're inclined to think the former. If only from context.
Well, that and the fact Heinz isn't an agent any more, for which you're eternally grateful.
5. Any incidents of intimate relations in recorded areas are to be noted. This is so the footage is not used for agents' regular performance review.
Oh fuck, the cameras. Somehow you'd forgotten they were used for more than just off-hours surveillance. That must be how Carl found out.
In a way, you're glad for the reminder. The only thing you want less than explaining to your superiors what you and Heinz do in your spare time is them watching it.
6. If it becomes clear that the occurrences of intimate relations have caused an agent to become emotionally compromised, the agent will be removed from active duty.
That's... fair. And something you refuse to let happen to you. Fighting evil is just too important.
7. If, however, an agent succeeds in using emotional entanglements to turn their nemesis from the side of evil, the agent will receive bonus pay and one week paid vacation before receiving a new mission.
A week is... generous. Suspiciously generous. You can barely manage to get a few hours off to celebrate your adoption day with your family, but OWCA can afford to give a whole week off for turning your boyfrienemesis Good? How does that even work?
You don't think Heinz is likely to give up Evil anyway. Not that you'd want him to, if you're honest. It makes him happy, and you don't want to deprive him of that.
8. In the event that an agent and assigned nemesis should cease intimate relations, the agent will be offered reassignment.
It makes sense, you think. Make it a-
You abruptly hear the words "clean break" in your mind, in Heinz's voice, and resolve to kick his ass extra hard next time you thwart him.
It's not that you haven't forgiven him for dumping you, for Peter the Panda of all agents, but you haven't forgiven him for dumping you. Besides, sometimes he just needs an asskicking.
9. Agents are expected to take adequate precautions to ensure no medical intervention is required as a result of intimate relations.
Somehow you're certain you wouldn't get sick leave even if you did manage to hurt yourself. It's happened before, with the Cone of Shame.
Heinz still has the photos.
10. Agents are not to disclose the existence of this policy without prior approval.
That explains the secrecy, you guess.
11. Agents are requested to not report details of incidents of intimate relations to their commanding officers.
You can just about hear the undercurrent of "we don't get paid enough for this". Mostly because you're all too familiar with the feeling.
12. If agents require accommodations, O.W.C.A. agents are eligible for discounts at
You feel yourself blushing under your fur as you read the name of the site. You recognise it all too well, because Lawrence and Linda get packages from there all the time and it's always a sign that you'll need to avoid the sensory deprivation tank for a few days.
with the discount code 'OWCA'.
...What sort of strings did they pull to get that set up? Is that why you haven't had a pay raise in three years?
13. O.W.C.A. is not liable for any costs arising from intimate relations or consequences thereof.
While it makes sense, part of you thinks this is related to the chronic lack of funds that have left you stuck with an older model jetpack, amongst other things.
14. Agents are to deal with personal issues during their personal time.
Or, in other words, you're not being paid to resolve your relationship issues.
15. Agents' personal information must not contain any form of conflict of interest.
Somehow you're certain the main issue OWCA has with that is the idea of financing evil scientists.
...You also object to that idea, but for entirely different reasons. Your paycheck is small enough as it is, you don't need evil scientists splitting the pot further.
16. Agents are forbidden from reporting details of incidents of intimate relations to their commanding officers. No exceptions.
That's the third time that's been stated. You're not sure you want to know why. It's sure to destroy your faith in your coworkers, not that you had much of that in the first place.
The next page is mostly blank, only an unassuming form name and a line for you to sign on.
That's... that's it? No disciplinary action? No immediate reassignment? You were expecting something... harsher, considering who you'd done.
You read through it a few more times, to make sure there's nothing you missed that could come back to bite you. But there's not, it's all reasonable, and it doesn't put you on the wrong side of the rules. It's all so much better than you thought it would be.
As you go to print it, because there's nothing to lose from signing it, you find that someone's set it up so that the first few pages are specifically blocked from printing. You didn't know that was even possible. Luckily it doesn't block the last page, which is the only one you actually need, so you set that going. You need to stretch your legs anyway.
Agent A is waiting at the printer when you get there, and something about the way he's standing tells you he knows what the file you just printed is for. Then he winks at you, which confirms it. Fuck.
You do your best to ignore the bait as you collect the sheet of paper. It's not going to hold off the gossip for long, you know the rumour mill too well, but you want to stay out of the firing line at least long enough to disappear on your legally-required lunch break.
You'd underestimated the speed of office gossip. Badly.
There's already an email waiting for you when you make it back to your desk, and you can tell from the subject line that it has nothing to do with either of your jobs.
You slump onto your desk with a tired growl, not even bothering to open it. It's not like it's urgent.
Why do you have to deal with this. Why can't you just lie low until you're no longer the gossip of the hour, that would be nice.
It doesn't stop the emails pouring in, though, so you sigh and resign yourself to wading through whatever the rumour mill's spouting, which is sure to be wildly inaccurate by now... After you sign the form so you have a job to come back to tomorrow. You prop yourself up on one elbow and dig through your drawer for a pen, then scribble your name on the line. There, responsibility achieved, time to brave your inbox.
The first email is from Agent H three sections over. Great. Not only are you the laughingstock of this office, but apparently the whole organisation too.
Herd u got lucky ;) congrats
You rest your head in your paws and sigh again. Sergeant Synonym's division and their animal-themed puns, you should have remembered. At least it was friendly. Again, better than you'd hoped for.
The next few have a similar sentiment behind them, which you're glad for. Another email is blank, with only the attached file drawing any attention at all. The file's name, OWCAANAL.RTF, doesn't bode well in the slightest.
Warily, dreading what you'll find, you open it.
O.W.C.A. Guide To Nemesex
It's worse than you'd thought, and your expectations were already rock bottom.
1. You still have a job to do, even when you're fucking them on a regular basis.
You feel your cheeks heat up at the phrasing. It's not that you're unfamiliar with the language used, you use it all the time. Mostly when Heinz is up to his usual shenanigans. Which is always. You're just... not used to seeing it in official-looking documents.
Even reminding yourself that this document is clearly not official doesn't help.
2. Your commanding officers don't want to know the details, but who can blame them.a) Use this to your advantage to get days off. - Agent W
...You're starting to see why the official policy was so insistent on the "don't tell your superiors" point.
Especially if it resulted in days off. You love your job, but sometimes you wish you got some time for yourself. Then you might make a dent in the recordings of your soap operas from the last few weeks.
3. Don't have sex on the job unless you have a really good excuse.
4. Fucking your nemesis into submission counts as a really good excuse. ;)
You like to think of yourself as too much of a professional to resort to that, but deep down you know you'd do it anyway if you ever got the chance. Or rather, you'd do him. Again.
5. Let the interns know which recordings to avoid. It's common courtesy.
That... makes a lot of sense. Carl's expression earlier was bad enough, you'd prefer to avoid any repeats of it with any other coworkers.
6. If you can't do your job, you can't be their regular nemesis.a) Retire and teach the newbies instead, that's what most of us do. - Agent X
Now that you think about it, your training did involve a lot of talk about how fulfilling a proper nemesisship was. Which you suddenly see in a whole new light.
You're... not sure how to feel about this.
7. If you fuck the evil out of them, OWCA will finance your honeymoon.
Honeymoon. You can picture it now. The two of you stumbling over the threshold to his woodland retreat together, fingers twisted together, rings glinting in the moonlight-
Maybe you should cut back on the romcoms. You've clearly been watching too many if you think Heinz would let you do anything without being trapped first. You love him, but he gets far too enthusiastic with the traps sometimes.
Speaking of traps, he still owes you a ring.
8. If you break up, take the reassignment.a) Please. - Intern Karkarot
Been there, done that, he sweet-talked you into getting back together. So far it's worked out alright.
He's still getting that asskicking though.
9. Don't do anything you wouldn't want to have to explain to the paramedics.a) Because then we'd have to explain to our insurance and no one wants to deal with that. - Intern Carrey
Not that you were planning to do anything like that in the first place. You've seen the paperwork.
b) And for the love of all that is good and right in the world, do not get yourself pregnant. - Intern Karijin
You stare at the screen, feeling your soul wither away. Why would- How would-
No. Fuck it. You're better off not knowing.
10. Don't tell anyone not already in the know. For some reason.a) We don't need you lot giving the recruits ideas. - Intern Kara
b) Our relationships aren't hurting anyone. - Agent A
c) They're hurting my feelings. - Intern Carlin
d) Is it really so bad? - Agent J
e) Do you have any idea what the paperwork involves? - Intern Carol
f) No, because that's your job. - Agent Z
g) You are all horrible, horrible role models. - Intern Karston
h) It's great stress relief though. - Agent L
i) Especially you, Leo. - Intern Kareem
...Did everyone but you know? What the fuck.
11. Did someone say "blackmail"?a) No, no they did not. - Intern Carmilla
b) None of us are paid enough to deal with this. - Intern Karkat
Suddenly you pity all the unpaid interns. As small as your paycheck is, at least you get paid.
12. Need sex toys? Talk to Greg for recommendations.
Is... is that Agent G, over in Accounting? You are learning entirely too much about your coworkers today.
13. O.W.C.A. won't pay for your damn sex toys. - Intern Carlisle
You snort. They barely pay for your equipment.
14. Relationship drama happens off the clock, unless you want to make the interns mad.a) Don't make the interns mad, they handle equipment requests. - Agent V
So that's why Agent V was stuck with a broken grappling hook for six months. And here you thought it was the equipment budget again.
15. Why are you listing your nemesis as 'next of kin'. Why. - Intern Karly
Like you'd give Heinz the responsibility. You trust him with your life, but that doesn't translate to trusting him with anything minor like being on time for important meetings.
16. blocked. blocked. blocked. youre all blocked. none of you are free of sin - Intern Carlos
Yeah, you're never looking at your coworkers the same way either.
It's the work of minutes to sort through the rest of the emails, by which you mean you're sorting all the non-work-related folder where you don't have to look at them. Eventually there's one more email waiting for you, from-
...Why the fuck does Heinz still have his OWCA-issued email address? You'd have thought they'd cancel that after he quit, but apparently not. Maybe it cost too much to pay someone for the few seconds needed to delete it. You're not sure why they were so quick to issue him one in the first place, either.
But he has one, and he took advantage of that to... invite you out to lunch? Of all the things he could do with access to OWCA servers, that's what he goes with? Something harmless and not particularly evil-
Unless he thinks dating an agent counts as evil. Knowing him, he probably does.
You'll accept, of course. OWCA can't stop you from taking a lunch break, and it'll be good to see him outside work, get to know more about who he is without the scheming. Somehow you suspect you'll still be subjected to a monologue or three anyway, because he really does take every opportunity to monologue, but he wouldn't be Heinz without them.
Even his emails are no exception. You can't help but smile to yourself as you read his rant on the different types of self-destruct button. Who would have thought there were so many? Not you, all you do is blow them up.
The sound of your fellow agents moving through the office pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance up. Lunchtime already?
You send a quick reply to tell him you'll meet him there, then stand and stretch. He'll be glad to hear the good news, and you're going past Human Resources anyway so you can hand in the form on the way.
You'd still rather have a day off, but this is the next best thing.
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