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“D-Daffy.. you t-ho- teh- try- eh- thought I was spen - ny- spen- neh- spend- ee- using all my time on Pet- Petunia?” Porky can’t believe his ears. Here he was assuming Daffy had moved on from him when it had been the complete opposite. He can’t help feeling a little pride at that- almost ‘winning’ one over Bugs Bunny although it was never a competition in the first place. Of course this was his own humble opinion. He desperately fights a smile because how insensitive would that be when his friend is sitting there feeling upset! He’s just so, so glad he wasn’t right about those two.
Daffy chimes in with gusto before he can elaborate, his speech erratic and split in pieces.
“But you gave ‘er that letter earlier!” He flails his arms around, pacing back and forth with a red face. Porky can’t quite tell if it’s because of anger or embarrassment just yet. “And ya- you- becausthe I sthaw- y’really thought me and Bugsth- y’thought I’d ever ditchya?” Feathers fly around the duck’s sporadic form, and it’s worrying because they only do that when he’s particularly stressed out.
“Da-Daffy.. the- ler- le- letter was v-bl- vacation outfits! She eb- eh- needed to make the cost- cos- stu- outfits for our tr-treh-trel- next stop to Hawaii!” he’s trying to mitigate the duck’s anxiety with an explanation and it thankfully seems to be working. Daffy stops shedding feathers and instead fumbles with his long fingers in front of his chest, arms curled into himself. “Eh- and when y- yh- y- you left me uh- um- alone I-i-it was always with eh- b- Bugs!”
Daffy winces and he feels bad for saying that already. But the gentle upturn of the duck’s head is accompanied by a sheepish smile instead of a teary-eyed frown, and he allows himself a reprieve from his guilt.
“We were both being a bit sthilly, huh Porkchop? Costhtumes! Shoulda guessthed stho!” His friend chuckles, still wringing his fingers together into literal knots. He begins to tug at his white collar of contrasting plumage, too, a common nervous tic for him- and he feels the urge to reach over and squeeze him until he’s his normal, laugh-y daffy self.
It’s when he’s ready to do just that when their eyes lock- in a gentle way that has no tension hiding behind it. Porky finds he enjoys the way their tense bodies relax as it happens, as if they both know everything the other is thinking and can understand it all. He notices every last twitch of the feathers and minute spring of the flippers during their stare down that indicate what’s about to happen, his legs tensing up in preparation.
Daffy finally lunges when he’s at the peak of anticipation, and he meets him in the middle. He wraps his arms tightly around the screwy duck with a dumb, toothy smile on his face, burrowing his nose into those satiny feathers with an exhale of relief. The birds, the studio, the leaves in the air, nothing is possible to focus on but this moment here and now.
“Porky! I’m s-stho glad! I thought thisth here duck got too sthcrewy for ya!” Daffy’s arms tighten more and Porky wheezes out a breath, blowing feathers from under his snout. “What a pal! What a guy! I knew I couldn’t be right, now, didn’t I? All along I tell ya, Porky ol’ chum!” His glossy eyes tell a different story, one of uncertainty. Porky pats his back earnestly. He feels a giddy joy bubble up into more laughter, and has to pull out of the pillowy chest he’s buried in to let it out.
“Hehehe.. haha! We- eh- b- we are s- se- si- s- l- funny aren’t we hehehe..” Daffy laughs too and he finds solace in the vibrations each chortle makes, allowing himself to melt into Daffy’s front and their arms to entangle themselves even more. His chest feels warm. This kind of affection runs so deep it makes his hooves tap on the ground at the mere mention of Daffy’s goofy self. Butterflies flutter around in his stomach and bounce about in his chest, and every time Daffy laughs they seem to burst out of him, creating a high that can’t possibly be replicated anywhere else. He reluctantly lets go of Daffy as the feeling overwhelms him, face flushing a deep red.
“Porky?” Daffy questions his sudden withdrawal, eyebrow quirked. He hopes he isn’t offended at all. Would someone normally be offended if the other person ended a hug- specifically one that went on for a while? He doesn’t think he would be, but people are so, so different from each other.
But he still doesn’t know if he can handle this kind of emotion right now, even if it hurts Daffy’s feelings. He’s a sensitive guy! And he's still not sure about his feelings or his identity or his place in that identity and this situation is making it all blow up in his face! How can he maintain composure when every time his body touches Daffy’s his mind chants ‘I love you, I love you! I adore you!’ Over and over again? He rubs the back of his head, knowing every second without a response is another second Daffy starts thinking he’s done something wrong.
“Eh- b- nothing! Neh- nothing! Hehehe..” he says uncertainly, eyes darting to the side and avoiding eye contact because each time their eyes meet he's again drawn in with a line of love and affection. He cannot deny it anymore- he wants to kiss that stupid face as much as he wants to run away from the awkward moment between them. And he doesn’t know what to do with this information. Not yet.
“You’re a real goof, Y’know that Pork?” Daffy laughs again, its echoes as melodious and zany and perfect as he can wish for. In his lovestruck awe he can’t stop the duck from wrapping an arm around his shoulder; and before he knows it they're walking through the parking lot towards their house, footsteps the only noise until they get about a block away from their front door. He relishes the warm weight of feathers on his side and the duck's steady breaths in combination with today’s gentle breeze.
Porky is about to take another contented step when he feels a tug on his shoulder.
“Eh- D- Daffy?” What was wrong?
“Whaddya sthay we go to the park and eat sthome sthtale bread together insthtead of goin’ home, eh Porky?”
It doesn’t look like it on the surface, but Daffy is clearly nervous; his confident posture the antithesis to his eyes which mirror the same uncertainty from their talk in the parking lot. Maybe he feels pressured to go out and do something fun, but doesn’t want Porky to think he’s tired? It has been a long day. He will be glad to hear that Porky doesn’t mind staying in today.
So, so deeply he suppresses the knowledge that that’s the stupid pick up line the duck uses all the time on unsuspecting pretty swans and passing gentleducks. But to use it on him must mean something different! He’s just Porky. Nobody important. Nobody that special or eye catching. He’s never been that guy.
“Oh don’- eh- don- eh- don’t weh- worry about that D-Daffy. I’m t- ti- teh- t- all tuckered out for today.” He waves a hand in the air, trying to show sincerity and expertly hiding the growing knot in his stomach at his stressful inner monologue. He notices a frown on the duck’s face but passes it off as a sheepishness at being found out. “Le- let’s relax at home.”
Little did Porky know this was the start of something new.
-
Daffy was losing his feathered head lately! Left and right he tries to invite Porky out to spend more time together but every time he’s denied for some obscure reason he can’t even begin to understand. He’s already standing next to the cafeteria line during their lunch break lookin’ like a darned fool duck- more than usual, at the very least- after being rejected once more. He stares dumbfounded as the handsome fella across from him flounders with a red face.
Because he was- handsome, that is. He’s finally able to admit how much he likes the guy (Bugs was definitely sending a telepathic ‘I told you so’) but it hasn’t amounted to much more than self discovery. The hug recently, as well as any casual touch after, never fails to send his heart into an arrest! But he keeps chasing that dizzying yet intoxicating rush, trying to replicate it and ask Porky out, despite every failure.
He’s been with Porky all across the globe, through the decades, in thick and thin! They're always glued at the hip. He knows Porky like his own beak. So why is it so hard to have a casual hang out now that he likes the guy?
He knows, he knows it’s different but the principle still stands! And he’s doing his best still to try and work past it!
“O-oh eh- eh b- eh- of course I’d leh- love to eat with you Daffy uh- but.. I’ve been feeling o-out of sorts teh- t- today! Eh.. ne- need some t-time.”
And yet it’s always just this. More ramblings and nervous laughter. And a flushed face. It kept getting red- red like a tomato!
Porkman’s never been so many hues before in his life! He could almost giggle. Almost. He feels like his heart’s falling into his stomach at the moment. The duck wobbles on his flippers uncertainly, frowning just enough that it wasn’t obvious. Hadn’t they resolved their issues earlier that week? What was the big deal? Huh?
“What? C’mooon Porko-“
He reaches out a hand to grab the pig’s shoulder for an impromptu kidnapping- but Porky manages to slip out from under him and escape down an adjacent hall, hooves clicking more frantically than they ever have before even when he lets out a polite,
“Anoth- ane- eh- ano- some other time Daffy!”
It’s a pattern now.
And now he’s stuck sulking into a bowl of macaroni and cheese, spoon clinking empty against the still-full porcelain dish and posture sagging. Moments later, without taking a single bite, he slinks off to another pointless filming session where he has to inevitably pretend nothing is bothering him. Switching it all off had never been so hard for him before. And everyone had to have noticed his sour mood. Every act felt like acting all of a sudden. It was always just.. an extension of himself. His zany personality lighting up freely. But today, or rather in the recent week, it feels like he’s lost a spark in himself.
He doesn’t bother to hide it anymore. As soon as the director yells ‘cut!’ He’s off like the wind, slamming the door to his dressing room closed and falling heavily into a swivel chair like it was his first seat in days. His reflection in the mirror stares back at him, equally dazed and unrecognizable. He feels a lot like a daffy, dumb little duck. A darned fool! A hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the hopeless.
All the people he’s flirted with before hadn’t been as intimidating. He didn’t really have anything to lose with those feelings being expressed besides a bit of pride. But Porky was different. He was his best friend. His partner in everything but crime- much to his own disappointment. His everything, his whole world. The only one besides a select few- emphasis on few- others who saw him as a person past the jokes and the woo-hoos and goofy antics.
And now it feels like he’s already messed it up by being avoided like this. He sucks the tears in best he can and rests his head on his arms, allowing himself the moment to sulk in peace.
Footsteps. Better not be Foghorn trying to strike up conversation about his moodiness again or he might finally lose his cool- and not in the fun, dilly dally Daffy Duck way. He’s thinking closer to what Taz does in that regard.
The anger fades when a familiar rabbit appears next to him and puts a gloved hand on his desk.
“Eh- you don’t look so good, Mac.”
Scratch that. The smug face was not helping him.
“Not right now, Bugsth.” He gently shoos the hand and rolls around on the chair, sticking his flippers out and sighing loudly. “Porky’s avoiding me sthtill! Even when we figured thingsth out!” His neck sinks into his shoulders and his pout grows. He watches Bugs scratch the back of his neck and waits for the inevitably awkward remark.
“Now would be a bad t’oim to tell yah Porky asked me t’a cover his next shift wit’ ya then, huh?” Bugs sheepishly responds, backing up as Daffy blows up on his face.
Because that was it!
“WHAT?! You gotta call it off, Bugsth! If I can’t even ACT with the guy whaddamigonnadoever?!” His arms flail above his head, his swivel chair clanging against the floor behind him with a loud crash.
“Oi can’t take it back, Duck! They’d toi’n me inta a hide after all dat talkin’ I had t’a do for ya last t’oime!” Bugs yelps as a stationary goes flying past his head, whiskers tangling. “Honest!” The last word comes out garbled and lower than his previous ones- something he’d picked up from Mel Blanc when his throat was all sore and the guy had substituted as his voice.
He and Porky had had plans with the voice actor later that month for lunch.. what if he cancelled that too?
“That’sth it! I’m finding that pig whether he wantsth me to or not!” Decided now, Daffy storms out of the room with a determined glare, absently grabbing some flowers from a vase by the door. Petunia passes by and shares a concerned look with Bugs, not bothering to hide it from him. He storms past it all, searching. Past curious coworkers, past a funny painting, past his favorite board game in the lobby, even right past a whole stick of tnt just waiting to be lit up. Past it all and right out the door- because Porky never misses his afternoon stroll by the lake.
Finally, he manages to corner Porky by a lemonade stand out front of the Warner Brother’s lot. The pig stutters and seems just as shocked as he is to be standing there, arms outstretched, lungs screaming and heart beating and he feels a dark flush reach up his whole darned face! Because Porky looks so cute and handsome and perfect right there in the sun and he feels like a disheveled little stain of a toon! Daffy feels white hot embarrassment crawl down his shoulders, feathers puffing up, and the flower he was carrying gets further smushed in his clenched hands.
“Eh-b- D- Daffy?”
This was a terrible idea. What was he doing? He was going to lose Porky forever if he goes through with this!
“Eh- whe- where eh- b- what brings you out here?”
What would it be like to not have that question asked ever again? To never hear that stutter inquiring him on his daily activities or what he’s doing in any one place. He can’t do this. He can’t ruin things between them. Nobody could ever replace Porkchop in his life. Not a soul. It wasn’t worth it. Any awkwardness or loss of a bond from rejection would ruin everything they had! It.. it would, right?
He flounders, avoiding eye contact. Glancing up at the sky in contemplation before closing his eyes doing what felt like the most gut wrenching decision of his life. Porky’s gaze feels like hot fire on his nervous stance.
“Nothing! I forgot where I wasth going- you know how it isth.” He sweats, hiding the flowers behind his back and rolling on his flippers.
Porky shoots him a confused look, raising a brow.
His wings twitch self consciously and something- his recently fueled bit of courage, perhaps- snaps in two. After that it doesn’t take long to fly away, absently dropping the flowers on the pavement as he flaps shakily through the sky back home.
To their home. For as long as that would be.
-
Back at the lake, Porky picks up the flowers with a flourish and shakes the dirt off, watching with concern at how many black feathers fluttered down at his hooves.
“Oh eh- who- w- w- who am I kiddin’?”
He picks up his phone and, pondering a moment, calls the director.