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Fenton woke to a repetitive beeping noise.
He recognized the source of it almost immediately; ever since he became Gizmoduck, the sound of a heart monitor had become familiar to him.
What wasn't familiar, however was the form of his ex-boss and current coworker draped over the end of hospital bed, snoring loudly as his glasses dangled precariously on the edge of his beak.
A month ago, the sight would've been so shocking, Fenton would be pinching himself to ensure he wasn't dreaming. But now...
Gyro seemed to be actively trying to make up for his treatment towards Fenton during his internship. He had moved Fenton's workspace to a desk parallel his own. He’d started trying to incorporate Fenton's ideas into the Gizmoduck suit. He'd even offered to send killer robots after Mark Beaks after he learned the extent of the Waddleduck incident (which, while somewhat tempting, Fenton had declined)
And now, he was apparently visiting Fenton when he landed himself in the hospital.
Speaking of…how did he end up here again?
He tried to shuffle through his hazy memories, but it was proving rather difficult. They came back in bits and pieces. He remembered stopping the Beagle Boys from robbing a small, family-owned restaurant. One of them (Megabyte Beagle, if what the other members of the felonious family had been calling him was correct) had pulled out some kind of raygun and the Gizmosuit had started to shut down. But after that…things got fuzzy. He guessed that was when he got knocked out.
A loud snore interrupted his thoughts and he looked down at his unconscious companion.
If Gyro was here…maybe he could help jog Fenton's memory.
He nudged the sleeping bird gently.
“Gyro.”
Another snore. Another nudge.
“Gyro.”
Snore.
“Gyro.”
This time, Gyro snorted in his sleep and turned away from Fenton, but still refused to wake up. Apparently, Gyro's stubbornness carried over even when he was unconscious.
Fenton decided to try to shake Gyro awake one last time before going down the immature route of giving the other a wet willy. He pushed on Gyro's shoulder a little rougher, and, even though he wasn't at a full strength, it was hard enough to make Gyro almost fall from his chair.
Gyro shot up like a rocket, hair in disarray and glasses threatening to fall at the next sudden movement. He blinked, confounded, before his eyes landed on Fenton and he seemed to remember where he was. He pushed his glasses further up his beak, saving them from their dangerous descent.
“Oh, you're--" His voice was hoarse from sleep and he cleared his throat, trying to dispel the roughness. “You’re awake. That's…good.”
Now that Gyro was awake, Fenton felt a little bad for forcing him from his slumber, considering he clearly needed it. The bags under his eyes were dark in a way that only appeared when he pulled multiple all-nighters in a row and his shirt looked like it was comprised entirely of wrinkles. His hair looked like he had just shoved his fingers in an electric socket.
In short, he looked like a wreck that hadn't slept in several days which, judging by the cardboard coffee cups filling the nearby trashcan, was an accurate assessment.
“Ugh, you don’t need a nurse do you? They keep telling me I’m “not allowed in the hospital after visiting hours."" At the mention of visiting hours, Fenton glanced at the clock and realized that it was, in fact, much later than the hospital allowed visitors.
“I think I’m fine for now,” Fenton said. “I…remember the fight. Beagle Boys, right? And a raygun?” A horrible thought occurred to him “Oh God, is the suit okay? If the Beagle Boys got their hands on it after the fight it would be catastrophic, disastrous--"
“The suit’s fine,” Gyro interrupted his frantic ramblings. “Not that that should be your first concern.”
“What?” Is his eloquent reply.
Gyro huffed an impatient breath. “You’re sitting in a hospital bed after being knocked out for two days--"
“Wait, did you just say two days--"
“And the first thing you’re worried about is the fucking armor?”
Fenton blinked. Gyro stared at him with a deadly serious expression that juxtaposed his scruffy appearance.
“I just wanted to be absolutely sure the Gizmoduck suit is secure before--"
“I can replace the armor. I can’t replace you.”
The words are so surprising, Fenton would have taken a step back if he were able. But, since he can't, he settled for staring at Gyro with a dumbfounded expression.
Coming from anyone else, it might not have been so significant. It might not have meant anything. But it was Gyro, who was deadly allergic to anything resembling feelings. Who said things Fenton didn't realize were compliments until much (maybe too much) later. Who wrapped sentiment up in a small package and pretended it didn't exist. Who, more than anything else, hated being vulnerable and expressing his heart. He had learned how to puzzle out Gyro's feelings from his vague words.
So, given the fact it was Gyro, always cold and aloof and brusque, and not anyone else, Fenton could easily see the intended meaning behind his words; he just admitted he somewhat cared about Fenton.
Gyro, while Fenton's realizations spun through his mind, had decided that the bland hospital bedspread was the most fascinating thing in the room. His fingers absently twisted together (he always did that when he was trying to calm himself down, and when had Fenton started noticing things like that?) squeezing his hands before unclenching and starting the process over like if he didn't stop moving he wouldn't have to confront what he just said.
“I…look…” he stuttered off a couple sentence fragments, fingers moving to a loose thread on his vest. It was the first time Fenton had seen Gyro at a loss for words.
“I care about you too!” Fenton burst out. Gyro looked up with an uncanny deer-in-the-headlights expression that was very different from the smug confidence he always wore. “I just- figured that’s what you meant and um-I reciprocate those feelings and- okay, maybe I was a little presumptuous with that assumption—"
“Oh, Pecksya, no, that’s exactly—”
“--I mean maybe you just meant as a pilot for the armor--"
“—sort of terrible at the whole communicating with others thing--"
They ramble over each other, words crashing into a mostly unintelligible mess until they both just shut their beaks and stared at each other. It was probably the fourth most awkward conversation Fenton has had in a hospital room.
“So…” Gyro coughs. “That certainly…occurred.”
“Yep.”
Another two beats of uncomfortable silence. Gyro's hands find his vest thread again. Fenton waited for either Gyro to break the silence or for himself to come up with something to say.
“I…” Gyro began. “Listen, I don’t do feelings, all right? I personally believe we should all completely ignore them until they consume us from the inside, but I digress. I...like you. At least, more than the other billion idiots that populate this planet. I have to admit I genuinely enjoy your company and care about your safety. So…there. End of speech.”
Right. Okay. He supposed it was his turn now. His fingers tapped against the bed nervously. “Well, even though our relationship started a little…rocky, to say the least, I like you too.”
Gyro made a small noise acknowledging what Fenton said, but, for once, didn't offer any comments. They lapsed back into silence, but not nearly as uncomfortable as before. It was actually rather pleasant.
“After you’re discharged, would you like to. . .um, see a movie or something of that sort? I heard that there's a fascinating new one about robots.”
“Sounds great!”
“Terrific, we--" The rest of Gyro's sentence was cut off by the entrance of a nurse, who looked like she would rather be anywhere besides the late shift at a hospital.
“Hey! What did I tell you about breaking in after visiting hours?”
Gyro groaned. “I guess I'll be leaving now, I doubt Mr. McDuck will be willing to bail me out of jail again."
“See you tomorrow.” It was more of an unasked question about whether or not Gyro would actually be coming again tomorrow rather than an assumption he would.
“Yes, you will.” Gyro stood up but made no further movement to leave. “Oh, and Fenton? One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
Gyro leaned down and pressed his beak firmly to Fenton's. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, and he returned the kiss eagerly. A few seconds later (though he could have sworn the kiss had lasted several lifetimes) Gyro pulled away and Fenton felt disappointed at the break of contact.
“See you tomorrow,” Gyro said, face still a hair's breadth away from Fenton's. He then pulled away completely and disappeared out the door where the nurse now looked mildly interested in what was going on.
Fenton stared after him and swore his heart monitor skipped a beat.