Archive of Our Own

“Anyway, that is all I have to say.”

“Wow...uh...” Fenton rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at the pair in front of him. “This is uh...a lot for me to take in.”

Gyro’s default resting face puckered into a confused frown. “Was I not clear in my communications?”

“Oh no, you were,” Fenton assured. “You were really clear, it’s just uh…”

“Yes?” Gyro folded his arms, expectant.

“Well...I’m really flattered, but-”

Fenton was quickly trying to come up with a good way to word it, and Gyro’s frown was deepening with every second of silence.

“I’m actually kind of seeing someone else.”

The impatience in Gyro’s body language quickly morphed into what Fenton could only describe as obvious discomfort, and the chicken hugged his own arms a little tighter.

“Oh.”

Gyro sunk into the stool at his desk and leaned over to stare downward and sighed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Stomach twisting with guilt, Fenton walked over and awkwardly pat Gyro’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s not anything personal. I’m just already dating Gandra-”

Gyro frowned more. Wrong answer.

Fenton tried to remedy it, “I’m just not really into men- well, I am, but- wait...”

Okay, definitely wrong answer.

Fenton’s tongue worked like a cassette tape spitting its guts. “I mean, I think you’re attractive, but I’m more attracted to Gandra and- okay, I’m shutting up.”

“Please,” Gyro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his beak. “Look. I get it. I guess I should have expected as much, but I suppose it was worth a shot...even though I completely embarrassed myself.”

Fenton sat on the desk, ignoring how Gyro glared at him momentarily. “It’s really nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve gotten turned down by lots of crushes before-”

“High school doesn’t count, Cabrera,” Gyro muttered.

“Uh...” Fenton smiled awkwardly. “Even then, don’t feel too bad. I think you’re still a really awesome friend.”

“Not the consolation prize you think it is,” the chicken shook his head, “but...thanks I guess.”

“Well...heyyyyy… that whole saying about fish in the sea-”

“I think I would actually feel better if you stopped talking.”

“Suit, are you sure you don’t wanna dump me and date Four-Eyes?” Gandra joked as she nudged his foot under the cafe table. “You’ve been staring at him for the last hour.”

“Sorry.” Fenton flushed, rubbing his forehead. “I just feel bad seeing him sit there all by himself.”

Gandra took another look at Gyro at the corner table, beak buried in his tablet, then shrugged. “He seems fine. It’s been like a week since you turned him down. I’m sure he’s over it.”

“I know,” Fenton sighed, “but I sort of feel guilty about it.”

“Why? Not your fault you’d rather have a piece of me than Crabby Pot Pie over there.” She smirked, grabbing one of the lemons out of her iced tea to chew it.

“I just know how hard it probably was for him to admit any sort of feelings for me at all...or like, to anyone, really.” The duck watched Gyro continually scroll his finger on his screen. “I think he’s just really lonely.”

“So what’s your remedy to that?” Gandra peeled off the lemon rind in messy pieces. “Invite him for threesomes? He’s kind of a thot.” She recalled from having stalked his hookup site profiles once before out of boredom.

“No!” Fenton blushed. “I mean, maybe if we’re drunk, but- actually I had another idea, and I might need your help with it.”

“I’m lithening.” Gandra grinned from the lemon wedge smile she made.

“Uh, how’s the water, Gyro?” Fenton wrung his hands a bit anxiously as he sat across from him at the dive bar he and Gandra had invited him to.

“Filtered.” Gyro nodded, staring blankly as he took another long sip.

“Good...good...uh...do you want any food or anything? Appetizers? I know you don’t usually eat lunch so-”

“They’ve got really good vegan nachos here!” Gandra cut in.

“Cabrera, I’d appreciate it if you and your,” he gagged, “ girlfriend cut to the chase and tell me your intentions for this outing.”

It had taken Fenton more than a couple tries, but after three invitations, Gyro seemed to suspect something was up and went along with it. And he’d gotten even more suspicious when his coworker had announced he was bringing Gandra. 

“Uhhh, Gandra and I just wanted to take you out and uh- you know, just hang out? We don’t spend enough time out of work and-”

“Before you go further: I will not plan your wedding, I will not be your surrogate for a baby, and I will not engage in a threesome with you unless I get to draft the terms of the tryst in writing, and you both agree to call me ‘Sir’ throughout the entire encounter.”

“Uh...Gyro that’s not what we were gonna ask at all.” Fenton visibly blanched.

“Though I do wanna talk more about that last thing later.” Gandra smirked in amusement.

“Then what is it? I’ve got other things to be doing.” Gyro frowned, crossing his arms.

“Well…” Fenton began, then nudged Gandra. “Want to take it from here?”

“It was your idea.”

“You’re better at pitching this stuff than I am!”

“Would you both just spit it out?” the chicken snapped at them irritably.

“Uhhhh...we want to set you up on a date!” Fenton put it plainly.

“Excuse me.”

“Or more like a very precise and coordinated series of dates that we’ve organized for you, having gone through all the employee databases of tech companies in Duckburg,” Gandra went into detail. “So your selection of dates will already have a common trait with you and give you a chance to bond with someone who you can converse with.”

Gyro looked at the two, unenthused. “Hard pass.”

“But Gyro,” Fenton said with a frown, “this could give you an opportunity to-”

“For starters, I’ve already bedded about an eighth of the STEM field in Duckburg, I go to plenty of mixers, and if you’re doing this because you feel bad about turning me down, which I’m 99.99% sure is the case, I certainly don’t need your pity or sympathy. I’ve had many a rejection in my lifetime, Cabrera.”

“Hey,” Gandra cut in, leaning over the table to point at Gyro, “Suit here obviously wants to do something nice for you, so why don’t you just shut up and agree to spend your Friday nights doing something other than yell at Trekkies on message boards?”

“Do I look like I can afford going out every Friday night?”

“We’ll cover your food and cab rides. We’re funded under Louie Duck INC,” Fenton assured.

“Are they all scientists?”

“I believe so! We also threw in a few of my college friends, a few of Gandra’s, and I think Launchpad?”

“Ah. Great.”

“So...is that a yes?”

“If you let me leave now, I may consider it.”

“We’ll take it!”

And thus began the dates. The first date Gandra and Fenton set their friend up on was with an old college buddy of Fenton’s named Drake Mallard. The two had been roommates freshman year despite being of two completely different majors, STEM and acting. By what Fenton could remember about him, Drake was your average young actor: energetic, stubborn, a bit egotistical. Perhaps he would be the perfect match for Gyro.

Fenton made them reservations at an Italian place near Silverbeak, somewhere that always had a quite romantic atmosphere. Once the two had met up and properly introduced themselves, Fenton decided to give them some privacy and made his way over to Gandra’s apartment. The two sat on the couch, the news idly playing in the background as they leaned against one another. Gandra could sense the worry spilling from Fenton and gave him a nudge.

“Hey, don’t work yourself up over this,” she advised him, taking a swig from the can of Pep she’d acquired.

“I’m not working myself up over anything!” Fenton defended himself.

Gandra smirked. “Nice try, but that iron grip you’ve got on your Pep says otherwise.” 

She gazed down to where Fenton was gripping his now empty can of Pep so hard it had crumpled slightly. Groaning, he threw the can on the floor and rubbed at his forehead. “I just want Gyro to have fun for once.”

“And he might be!” Gandra pulled Fenton closer. “He’s on a date. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Armed robbery?”

Sirens from the news broadcast on the television sounded in the background, getting their attention. “This just in: there is currently an ongoing robbery at Gepetto’s Italian Grill in Silverbeak.”

Gandra and Fenton felt their hearts practically stop at the same time. Then, Gandra attempted to give Fenton a lighthearted grin. “Spoke too soon?”

Once Gizmoduck had properly suited up and arrived, he was expecting to be thrust into utter chaos and worry for his friend. Instead, he found that the crime scene seemed to be under wraps. Confused but accepting, he searched for Gyro and eventually found him leaning against a stop sign outside the restaurant staring at his phone. 

Gizmoduck rushed toward him. “Gyro! You’re okay!”

Gyro looked up and shoved his phone in his pocket as if nothing happened, keeping a stoic expression. “There you are. I was right about to call you.”

Sensing that something was up, Gizmoduck frowned and looked around. “Where’s Drake?”

“Ran away the minute the Beagle boys showed up,” he scoffed. “I was hiding under a table after spilling spaghetti all over myself in shock,” he pointed to a red stain on his outfit, “and practically screaming for my life like a frightened child, and he bailed.”

“Oh…” His heart ached for Gyro. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. I’m not sure we really clicked.” Gyro tapped a finger against his beak. “He kept going on and on about musical theatre and movies I’ve never heard of. Wasn’t really my type of conversationalist.”

Gizmoduck nodded but then realized they had yet to address the other elephant in the room. “Wait, how’d the robbery get stopped without Gizmoduck?”

“Ohhh that.” Gyro groaned. “Some guy in a purple hat showed up and did his thing. Not sure who that was, called himself Dark-something? Darkbeak? I’ve never been good with names.” He shrugged. “Although he did help me out from under the table and gave me a flirtatious wink. But I won’t pursue that. Once you’ve fallen for one hero and gotten your heart crushed, you kind of lose interest in all of them.”

“Right…”

Gyro waved Gizmoduck off, adjusting his vest. “Well, I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow, Gizmoduck.”

“Wait!” he called. “Do you want me to fly you there?”

“No thanks. I’ll walk.”

And with that, Gyro walked away, leaving Fenton confused and already desperate to find another plan.

“Hey so bad news. Randy has trout pox, he had to cancel for tomorrow.” Gandra pocketed her phone.

“Bleepening Bleeperskite,” Fenton sighed. “...What? I’m trying a new phrase that won’t trigger the suit.”

“Needs work.” Gandra snaked her arm around his as they walked down the street. “I guess we’ll have to tell Four-Eyes his Friday night is a bust.”

“I wish we didn’t have to! After what happened last week, I’m starting to think Gyro deserves a stroke of good luck.”

A few yards behind them, right before they turned the corner, they heard someone pipe up, “Hey! Twenty dollars!” They turned around in time to see Gladstone Gander pocket a crisp bill they’d not even spotted. Gandra and Fenton then looked at each other, and smiled.

“You think he’s free?”

“Oh, I know it.”

To Fenton’s mild surprise, Gladstone had been nothing but delighted at the idea of a date with Gyro and had no further questions beyond where they would meet. After ensuring that Gyro and Gladstone had both made it to the corner bistro on time, Fenton met up with Gandra for their own low-key date of takeout Thai food and a movie at his house while M’ma wasn’t home.

“Kind of surprised Gladstone was that quick to say yes,” Gandra admitted. “Isn’t he kind of snooty?”

“Ah, you never know!” Fenton waved off. “Maybe he had some sort of crush of his own on Gyro?”

“Unlikely.” Gandra stuffed a spring roll in her mouth, focusing her attention back on the movie.

Hours later, when the movie was long over, Fenton had woken up from his light slumber on the couch and checked his phone to see if Gyro’s date with Gladstone had gone okay.

Pick me up at Motel 5 on Feathercrest, room 9

Immediately, Fenton realized that the nature of the date had gone far beyond what he had anticipated and flushed bright red. He carefully got off the couch without disturbing Gandra’s sleep, and tucked her in, hurrying out the door. He arrived in time to see Gladstone exit the room from the outdoor balcony, sauntering off with a cheery whistle, and Gyro waving him off nonchalantly.

Fenton hurried up the stairs. “Wait, Gyro! Why are you having me pick you up from here?”

“Date’s over.” Gyro shrugged, not too bothered about how every bit of clothing he wore was crooked or missing.

“But why isn’t Gladstone staying with you?”

“Is that what you think this is?” Gyro laughed incredulously, flipping his collar back to standard. “Oh, sweet idiot Cabrera. He never stays. Never has.”

“Wait, you’ve slept with Gladstone before? ”

“Like three separate times,” Gyro hiccupped. “By the way, want some champagne? We had an extra bottle.”

“Oh my god,” Fenton groaned. “Just get in the car.”

The ride to Gyro’s crappy apartment was silent for the first half except for the tiny hiccups coming from the chicken, and Fenton fuming silently in frustration with himself for essentially arranging a free hookup for Gyro.

“Please tell me you’re at least going to date him again.” He gave Gyro one chance to help his pride here.

“Oh, definitely not.” Gyro clicked his tongue.

“Even after all of that?!” Fenton looked at Gyro in exasperation.

“Sex with Gladstone is like fast food: satisfying in the moment but empty calories.” Gyro smirked.

“Well, great! I wasted my money on you having a date that was essentially fast food,” Fenton grumbled, pulling up in front of Gyro’s apartment.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me for how I socialize with men!” Gyro glared at Fenton. “And it most certainly isn’t your business on how many people I sleep with and how many times.”

The duck sighed. “Alright, you’re right. Sorry. I just want to see you find the right guy for you.”

“It’s not anything for you to worry about. Really,” Gyro assured, struggling to get out of the car on wobbly feet.

“But are you still down for the third date?”

“My internet is shut off all next week, so what else do I have to look forward to?”

“I dunno suit, maybe it’s time to give up.”

“We can’t give up!” Fenton was sitting outside the local Starducks, browsing quickly through his phone for potential dates. “What about Donald?”

“Isn’t he dating that one girl who works for Glamore?”

“Darn, right. What about José? Panchito?”

“Pretty sure they’re dating each other.”

“Ah...we could always try Launchpad again?”

Gandra shook her head and took a sip of her iced mocha. “I think you’ve just about tried everyone you know.”

“Augh, I have!” Fenton let out an exasperated sigh. “And I thought I had a lot of friends.”

“You do. That’s not the problem.”

The duck was wracking his brain for a solution, when finally something dawned on him. “Wait, Gandra.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve tried everyone I know, but I don’t think you’ve brought anyone to the table.”

Her expression faltered a little at the realization, and she nervously set her cup to the side. “You do have a point…”

“You’ve got to know someone,” Fenton urged her on. “Do you have any friends I don’t know about? Acquaintances even? Passing strangers on the street you say hi to every now and then?”

Gandra thought for a moment, and then, a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head. “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot! My best friend’s been single this whole time.”

Fenton let out a deep breath of relief. “Gandra, that’s wonderful! What’s he like?”

She tapped a finger to her chin and smiled. “Exactly Gyro’s type. Oh, this is gonna be great! I’ll drop him a text right now.”

Feeling like maybe his plan would work after all, Fenton mentally crossed his fingers as he watched Gandra whip out her phone and eagerly text Gyro’s newest suitor.

Gyro wasn’t 100% on board with these dates, but that didn’t mean he didn’t expect the bare minimum from these men he was supposed to be seeing. And that included them being on time! Thirty minutes had gone by, Gyro was two glasses of sampler wine in, three breadsticks and no sign of the gentleman Gandra had arranged for him to meet. He had no idea what to expect except that this guy was a fellow rooster, an old work buddy of hers and an amputee. Also something about not calling him something insulting, Gyro didn’t remember exactly what, he’d admittedly stopped paying attention after thirty seconds of the call. Especially after Gandra said this guy was a catch.

Finally, he saw who could only be his mystery date, and va-va-voom, Gandra certainly delivered. Gyro tried not to stare too intently at him, but good god, third time the charm looked like it was a truth here. The square shouldered rooster was dressed to the nines, perhaps a little too fancy for this place, but Gyro didn’t mind. He had the tan and muscled physique of men in fantasy, the square brow, the smolder, the...metallic beak? That was new, but not a dealbreaker. Gyro’s eyes travelled lower as his dapper date approached the table, and the hunk-hungry scientist couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like under all those clothes.

“H-Hi,” Gyro hiccuped, face flushed as he put on the schmooze. “You’re Gandra’s acquaintance, yes? Got a name, stranger?”

The rooster opened his mouth. “Stee-aaauhhh…..” he began looking around, squinting for signage on the walls, then grinned. “Stromboli. Stromboli Vermicelli.”

He offered a hand out to Gyro, right in front of his face. Alright. A little bit of an unconventional name but Gyro wasn’t going to judge. Yet.

“Yeeeeessss...Gyro Gearloose.” The chicken smiled insincerely, nudging the other’s meaty hand away from his beak, patting it. “Won’t you sit down?”

Stromboli took a seat and glanced in both directions, as if he was looking out for someone. Then, he gave Gyro an awkward smile before picking up the menu. This made the other chicken frown, and the longer the silence went by, the tenser the atmosphere became. Eventually, Gyro decided to break it, coughing as he did so.

“Soooo,” he began, tapping his fingers against the table, “where are you from?”

The well-dressed gentleman looked up from the menu, appearing nervous to be asked such a question. “Uhhhhh, here.”

“Duckburg?”

“Yeah! That place.” Stromboli gave another awkward side-glance before going back to his menu.

Gyro sighed quietly. This man looked the part, sure, but he didn’t seem to be much of the conversationalist. Perhaps he was just shy. Nothing a few more icebreakers couldn’t fix.

“What do you do?”

“Huh?” The question seemed to take the larger man off-guard.

“Oh, I asked what you do. Like, a job? Hobby? Anything?”

Stromboli coughed and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Um...good question! I uhhhh...wait, what do you do again?”

Gyro cleared his throat. “I’m head scientist at McDuck Enterprises.”

“Ohhh yeah! I do that too.” He crossed his arms and nodded confidently.

Although he wasn’t entirely buying it, Gyro still smiled at the other’s reveal. “Ah! Really? Another scientist? Finally, someone I can have a more intellectual conversation with on one of these dates.”

The color seemed to drain from Stromboli’s face for a second. “Wait, no-”

“What’s your field, Stromboli?”

"I don't have a field. I live in an apartment."

Gyro screwed up his face and laughed awkwardly. “Haha, good one. Anyway, um, what kind of science do you do?”

“Oh! Right.” Stromboli tapped a finger against his metal beak for a good thirty seconds before finalizing his reply. “Sorry, had to think about that! But I got it. I, get this...make things.”

“Is that so?” Gyro raised an eyebrow, smile faltering. “Well, why don’t you tell me some of the things you’ve made?”

As usual, it took Stromboli a while to formulate an answer, but soon enough, his metal beak twisted into an arrogant smile. “Funny you ask because I actually just finished something last night.”

“Ooh, really?” 

“Yeah. Not to brag, but I’m kind of the fastest working scientist in the whole science room.”

“Lab?”

“Yeah, that! Anyway, so get this. You know what a fork is?”

Gyro blinked and motioned to the one sitting next to his plate.

“Right, right! Those.” Stromboli looked both wants and leaned in, as if he was passing on some sort of arcane knowledge. “Get this: I took a fork, cut all the sharp parts off it and ate with it.”

There was a pause while Stromboli waited on Gyro’s reaction, and Gyro tried to figure out how to word it in a way that wouldn’t end the date early.

“Speechless, huh?” Stromboli laughed. “I was too when I thought of it. Makes eating soup a lot easier.”

Gyro heaved a sigh and finally spoke. “So, a spoon?”

Stromboli’s eyes widened. “Say what now?”

“You made a spoon?”

There was another painful pause as the other took in what Gyro said, still seeming genuinely confused. “Wait, someone already made that!?”

Shaking his head, Gyro gave his date a concerned glare. “Look, I understand that you want to impress me, but you don’t have to lie about your occupation in order to do so.”

Stromboli seemed to read this as a challenge. “I’m not lying! I’m a scientist!”

“Name three elements on the periodic table.”

“Easy! Ketchup, mustard and the white stuff."

Gyro took a deep breath. “Okay, first of all, those are condiments, not elements, and second of all, it’s mayo- ugh, never mind.” Hes shook his head and began to wrap his breadsticks up in a napkin. “I don’t have time for this.”

Before he could make any attempts to get up, however, Stromboli grabbed his hand from across the table.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home. You may be hung like a horse, but you've got the brain of one too. I don't date stupid."

And in half a second, the table flipped, and Gyro was beak to beak with the rooster who screeched in his face. "I'M NOT STUPID!!!"

Before Gyro could make some sort of apology or offer of hooking up to rectify the situation, Stromboli had pulled out a futuristic looking gun and was waving it around at other panicked patrons, throwing Gyro to the floor.

"I'll show you who's stupid!" The rooster loomed over Gyro with a sinister glare, but before he could do any shooting, Gandra was leaping over a table, frantically shouting at him.

"WOAHWOAHWOAH!!! Steelbeak, remember no blowing stuff up!" She was yanking on his arm.

"HE CALLED ME STUPID!" he shrieked and pointed at Gyro, who was still on the floor trying to gather up his breadsticks.

"I know he's an ass but no shooting, man! I can't bust you out of jail again-"

"Dee-dee, lemme handle this!"

"Put the gun down!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

While Gandra and Steelbeak tugged at the weapon, Gyro took that as his cue to bail out of the restaurant. Right outside the front door, he began to text Fenton.

Your girlfriend's friend is an idiot.

He screeched as a laser blasted from the front door and over his head, and he ran and texted at once.

And he almost killed me.

After a good several minutes of running, Gyro had reached the waterfront of Duckburg and paused to catch his breath, running his hand through his hair. Maybe it was a sign he should stop. Evidently, he wasn't going to connect with any of Fenton or Gandra's acquaintances or anyone else like them. 

Gyro decided to call it a night, and take the long walk home, along the beach, and shortcut under the docks. He kicked through the sand and tried to rationalize his predicament. In the grandest scheme of the universe, being single wasn't at all a problem. Besides, it wasn't like he was completely alone in life. He had plenty of fun thoughtless flings with men he could jab about science with before sending them off in the night.

But he couldn't decide if that actually made him happy.

When he was under the docks, Gyro decided to take advantage of the low tide to take a break and sat on one of the barnacle covered rocks in the shadier part of the sand. Munching one of the breadsticks, he decided to drown his frustrations with the sounds of the sea, hot buttery bread…

...crunches of footsteps in the sand.

Gyro turned around in direction of the noise and saw nothing in the darkest part of the dock's underbelly. "Hello?" he called out, mid chew of a breadstick.

There was no answer beyond a few more footsteps. 

And then in the light of sunset, Gyro saw a figure emerge from the shadows, and just about let his organs fall down to his knees in terror as he saw what looked like some sort of mask and a crowbar.

This is how I die. And I didn't even get to see my date without his shirt.

Gyro’s attempt at a scream was garbled by half-chewed breadstick and his life flashing before his eyes. Before he could beg for his life or claim he had a (robot) son, the figure emerged from the shadow and raised their weapon.

And dropped it to wave.

Removing his goggles and snorkel, the stranger cheered, “Hiya, fellow explorer of science! Long time no see!”

The inventor’s racing heartbeat started to calm when he took a closer look at the crowbar-wielding stranger and came to realize that he wasn’t a stranger, at least not really. Gyro quickly recognized the money bin’s janitor who would sometimes clean up the lab after hours, when he’d still be hard at work on one of his several inventions.

After he caught his breath and convinced himself that he wasn’t going to die, Gyro crossed his arms. Although this was a relief, it still didn’t fix the onslaught of dating problems he was having seconds before he was faced with his own morality. “Oh. It’s just you.” 

“Indeed!” The janitor walked closer to him, still wearing an amiable smile on his face. “What brings you out to sea this fine evening?”

Gyro sighed, not really wanting to make small-talk with the current state he was in. But he supposed he didn’t have a choice. “An outing I’d scheduled went sour, so I decided to have my dinner on the rocks,” he said, sugarcoating his ordeal.

“Oooh, a picnic!” The duck’s eyes lit up. “What’d you pack?”

Blinking, Gyro looked down at his cold (and now slightly soggy) breadsticks. “It’s more of a party-for-one kind of deal.”

“I see. Nothing wrong with enjoying your own company every now and then!” The laugh that came from the janitor’s throat sounded both lighthearted and pained, if only a little. “Do you mind if I sit there, actually?” 

Realizing that he was pointing to the spot right next to Gyro, the chicken scoffed. “I’m rather enjoying my own solitude, thanks.”

The other bird blinked, looking slightly hurt. “Oh. You really like being alone?”

Gyro didn’t want to answer that honestly. Instead, he shot the janitor a glare, hoping it would be enough to get him some peace and quiet.

Forcing a smile, the duck replied, “It’s alright! I was just looking for a spot to do some thinking about the thing I’m working on.”

Perking up slightly, Gyro turned to face the janitor again. “Working on? You mean, an invention?”

“Yeah!” The other nodded. “It’s a pretty ambitious project, if I might say so myself.”

Gyro reminded himself to tread carefully through this conversation. One person already lied to him about being a scientist tonight, and he didn’t need this guy to come at him with a ray gun either. Although, now that he thought back to the few times he had seen this strange man, he had seemed to take an interest in the projects he’d been working on. Most of the time, Gyro didn’t even answer in hopes that it’d get him to leave him alone, thinking it was nothing but a person wanting to make small-talk and steal his working hours.

“Well,” he followed up, “what is it?”

"Okay, okay," the duck suddenly was less than a foot away from Gyro, eyes glittering with excitement. "Picture this," he began, gesturing with his hand, "you're out at sea on a submarine, enjoying the picturesque delights of the Great Barrier Reef when suddenly a very friendly tiger shark gets a little too cuddly with the hull of your vessel, and you're suddenly sinking! I'll bet you're wishing your submarine wasn't made of such heavy metal so you could sink upwards instead of down!"

"I'm not accustomed to submarines, but I assume yes that would be ideal."

"Well, I've come to the resolution that if you created a submarine with an outer hull made with driftwood instead of steel, the submarine will float to the top of the water in an emergency!"

"Driftwood is naturally buoyant, yes." Gyro nodded, not sounding particularly interested either way. "So...why are you under the docks to brainstorm?"

"Sort of, by default " the duck admitted. "I may have had a bit of a run in with a current, and it sent my test vessel under the docks during high tide."

"Ah."

"I thought it would be easier to get it dislodged during low tide but I'm uh-” he rubbed the back of his neck, "-having some trouble. Driftwood isn't as lightweight as I thought."

There was a pregnant pause, punctuated by the crash of a far-off wave, and Gyro sighed, "Need some assistance?"

The other responded with an eager grin. "Oh, that would be most helpful! Two fins are better than one, I always say! Or pincers, or feelers, or tentacles, or-"

"I got it," Gyro snorted, motioning for the loon to lead the way.

A small battery lantern had been left in the dark by where the crash site was and Gyro took a minute to scope out the damage, seeing where the bottom of the vessel had wedged itself in between two rocks.

"You certainly got yourself stuck." Gyro frowned. "Not to worry though. I always carry a jack with me in case of any hoisting needed."

Gyro suddenly pulled the tool out of his vest pocket and the eccentric seabird's jaw dropped in awe. “How'd that fit in there?"

"Subspace pocket linings. Made them myself!" Gyro showed it off with a smirk. "I can fit a whole toolbox in here."

"I'll have to invest in one of those sometime! Maybe next time I see you in the lab, I can ask for you to sew one in my jacket!"

"You'd have to sign a waiver but sure."

Gyro rolled his eyes, positioning the jack under the submarine, cranking it until the vessel began to get pushed upwards and out of the rocks. The two birds nudged the submarine off the rocks and onto the sand with a loud bang, and while Gyro rubbed his tender shoulder, the seabird looked at the damage on the submarine.

"You wouldn't happen to have any glue or anything would you?"

"That's gonna take more than glue," Gyro shook his head, "and I strongly suggest you apply a resin to the wood next time...and some non corrosive insulation.” He pointed out the rust growing on a thin layer of metal under the shoddy driftwood.

"I didn't really have access to the materials," the other admitted. "I'm working without funding."

"Relatable," Gyro tsked, giving a sour frown at the handiwork. "What kind of blueprints did you use for this thing?"

"Oh...well...none. I sorta just went as I built."

"Huh. Well. It's impressive for that method," Gyro admitted, grabbing more tools out of his pocket. "Tell you what: I help you get this patched up so you can transport it to the lab, and I can maybe improve this dinghy."

The other looked like he didn't know whether to be insulted or not. "You'd really do that?"

"Why not? My night's already a bust."

"Well...uh…" The duck smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Nobody really gives me more than five minutes of their time to look at my stuff," he admitted, "and if they do, it's usually to tell me it's nonsense."

"That's weird. It makes sense to me."

He blinked, making eye contact with Gyro. A soft smile settled across his bill. “Really?”

“Of course! I mean, I am a scientist. Why wouldn’t I understand what I’ve studied my whole life?” He crossed his arms. There was a pause between them, but it wasn’t anything awkward. If anything, it felt a little warm.

Grin brightening a little, the janitor held his hand out in front of Gyro. “I’m Fethry.”

“Dr. Gyro Gearloose. But please, call me Gyro.”

After another lengthy silence, Gyro gave Fethry a gentle nudge. “Now, let’s get your sub back to the lab and see what we can do.”

Fethry nodded and followed suit as the two made their way inside the submarine. Gyro watched as the other started up his invention, and a pleased grin came across his beak. “You really do know how to work this thing.”

“Oh, please,” Fethry laughed. “I’m definitely no expert sea captain yet.”

“No, but for someone who’s self-taught, you’re really good. Why, I don’t think I could have done this before my schooling.” Gyro gave an impressed chuckle.

“Really?” He flipped around, eyes locking with Gyro’s.

The inventor felt a thick layer of blush coat his face. “Yeah. You’re...exceptional.”

While the tone seemed strained and uncertain, Fethry took it as a compliment, and grinned brightly. The two looked in whatever direction they could to avert from the fact they were both blushing. The silence of the submarine was getting a little bit too much after half a minute, and Gyro cleared his throat.

“So uh...how long have you been settled in Duckburg again?”

“If I counted childhood-”, Fethry began counting on his fingers, taking his hands off the steering wheel.

“W-Wait!” Gyro yelped, lunging to keep the wheel steady.

“Oops!” Fethry laughed. “I’ve lived in Duckburg most of my life! I just spent about five years, thirty-four weeks, three days, six hours and twelve minutes in an underwater laboratory complex in the middle of the sea.”

A rock dropped in Gyro’s stomach as he did the mental math. “...By yourself?”

“Not entirely! I had a nice team of krill with me. And a delivery guy who asked me how my day was going when he stopped by every three weeks with supplies.”

Gyro sucked in his cheeks. “Ooh. That sounds...quiet.”

“Well, I did become a world class solitaire player,” Fethry joked lightly.

“I’m a fan of working alone, but at the end of the day, I usually end up going home to my apartment with my cat, Lil Bulb and my invention slash part-time son.”

“Aww, is that the little fellow Woodchucker who plays with Huey in the lab?”

“I’m going to assume by ‘Woodchucker’ you mean Boyd? Then, yes.”

“Aww, that’s nice!” Fethry smiled. “Nowadays at the end of a long and grueling workday, I can always expect to come home to harbor to Mitzi.”

“Who’s that? Your girlfriend?”

“Ha! Oh no, no, no!” Fethry shook his head, flushing brightly. “Mitzi is my prized pet krill who was mutated by thermal vents in the sea.”

Before Gyro could ask for clarification, his ear caught the sound of water dripping and right as he turned his head to look, a steady flow of water burst from the interior wall next to him.

“Uhh...Fethry?”

“I see the lab right up ahead!” the duck cheered, not even phased by the water on the floor. “You’ve got duct tape right?”

“This might take a little more than that!” Gyro frowned as he tried covering a newly formed leak with his hand, then a third one with his foot.

Fethry only seemed to be phased by the rising water when a newly burst leak drenched his hat and rubbed his chin. “Okay, here’s the plan. We use the underwater emergency hatch for divers and get inside the lab that way.”

“Uh, Fethry, just a minor problem with that,” Gyro piped up, water getting up to his waist.

“Yes?”

“I can’t swim.”

The first few minutes in the lab were marked without words, only the sound of dripping water and clothes being wrung out by hand. Gyro looked out the observation window at the results of their escape.

“Well...I’m afraid at this point I’d recommend you rebuild it from scratch.”

Fethry watched the driftwood submarine sink to the dark sightless depths of the ocean, but yet he smiled. “Isn’t that just the way of science? You fail, fail some more, then you find success.”

“Where’d you get that? A cereal box?” Gyro snarked lightly.

“Actually, I think I heard you say it to the kids once.”

Gyro flushed. “Yes, well, that’s...different. They’re still kids.”

“Still, there’s an eternal truth to it, wouldn’t you think?” Fethry laughed, water dripping from his hair. “I mean, without your help, I wouldn’t have even gotten my submarine unstuck, and sure, it sunk, but I’ll just remake it again even sturdier…that is, if you’re still open to your original offer.”

“I’m not one to turn back on an offer.” Gyro smiled weakly, glancing down at the puddles that were forming around the two and slowly merging into one. “...You know, if you’d be willing, and it’s not any affront to what I can only guess is your busy marine-exploring life, you could come into the lab...during actual working hours?”

“Are you offering me a job here where I don’t scrub toilets?” Fethry clasped his hands together hopefully.

“Er...I’d have to ask Mr. McDuck, but-”

A wet squishy hug had cut Gyro off, and he was lifted three inches off the ground. “I’d love to!”

“G-Great!” Gyro choked out awkwardly. In spite of the dampness of the physical contact, the chicken admittedly didn’t mind it.

“We should celebrate!” Fethry insisted. “...I mean, if you’re not too busy.”

“Like I said before,” Gyro laughed softly, “my night was already shot. But I’m not so certain about that now.”

Fethry shuffled a foot in the puddles sheepishly. “We could maybe get some ice cream? You could tell me more about your most recent discoveries in the field of electromagnetism!”

“You heard me bragging about that yesterday did you?” Gyro smirked. “I suppose I can delve into that if you’d be willing to share more of your discoveries in marine science?”

“I’ve been waiting to hear that all night.”

“Gaaaandra?” Fenton nudged her again awkwardly. “Sweetie? You’re not still mad I had to apprehend your friend as Gizmoduck, and let my M’ma take him to jail, riiiight?”

“Suit,” she glared as she stomped down the bin stairwell, “I’m going to tell you the same thing I said twenty minutes ago: if you even want sofa-bed privileges at my place tonight, you are going to shut up and let me figure out a way to cover the costs when they post bail.”

“...I hope he doesn’t take it personally.”

The absolutely feral growl Gandra gave as she opened the lab’s stairwell door was enough to scare Fenton silent, and before she could chew him out again, they both stared at the mess inside. The large puddles all over the floor, drips from the pipes and scattered papers everywhere had Fenton reeling in anxiety at the realization that Gyro was probably going to burst a gasket at seeing such disarray. He didn’t know who, when or how it happened, but he didn’t want to be blamed for it.

“Oh, Flappening Flapperskite!” he yelped. “We gotta clean this up-”

“ You gotta clean this up”, Gandra corrected him. “I’m not employed under-”

“YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE STAKES HERE, WOMAN!” Fenton shook her by the shoulders gently. “AND I’M SORRY FOR ADDRESSING YOU SO BRUTISHLY, BUT IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A BOYFRIEND WHO IS ALIVE YOU WILL HELP ME!”

Gandra, visibly stunned, looked between his eyes and his hands, then spit out, “I can’t decide if I wanna help you or make out with you right now because I’m not gonna lie, that was hot.”

Before Fenton could consider Gandra’s offer, his blood ran cold at the chime of the elevator opening and the sound of...Gyro laughing?

“Oh my heavens, so what happened with the dolphins then?” the chicken cackled.

“I really don’t know! I spent days trying to track them but they made a mad dash out of there!” Fethry laughed, walking alongside him, half eaten ice cream cones in both their hands and not looking at all phased by the mess in the lab.

Before Fenton and Gandra could escape in the stairwell, Gyro had caught sight of them and raised a brow. “Oh? Do you two need anything?”

“U-Uh, no!” Fenton smiled awkwardly. “We just were looking for, uh-”

“My jacket,” Gandra cut in, a faster liar than the duck, “because I left it here after we were making out.”

“Oh, ew,” Gyro answered flatly.

Gandra smirked. “On your desk.”

Gyro nearly dropped his ice cream. “EW!!!”

“She’s just kidding!” Fenton frantically tried to calm a potential tantrum.

“Whatever.” Gyro rolled his eyes, still looking grossed out. “Just be careful of the puddles. Fethry’s offered to help me mop them up later.”

“Hi there!” Fethry waved at the two.

“Uh...hi!” Fenton waved back, then looked to Gyro apologetically. “About the whole thing with the date earlier tonight, I’m sorry-”

“Look, after everything else tonight, it’s hardly in my mind.” Gyro waved it off.

“Still, I think I came up with a better solution for next week-”

“Oh, actually…” Gyro began, trying to come up with the right words while his free hand was within an inch’s touch of Fethry’s.

Fethry helped him find the words when he took his hand.

“About next week. I already have plans.”