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"This is it, isn't it?" Fenton couldn’t help but voice the thoughts that plagued his mind as Gyro helped him prepare for their battle against the moon invaders. His anxiety got the best of him as he struggled to remember how to breathe. This wasn’t the average run of the mill villain, this was an all out alien invasion and the odds weren’t exactly stacked in their favor. He met Gyro’s gaze, and for just a moment he forgot about what they were doing as he got lost in his eyes. It wasn’t often they were at the same height, but with Fenton plugged into the suit and Gyro on a stool, they found themselves for the first time on equal footing.
“It’s not, Cabrerra.” Gyro replied, fastening the new control panel to the interior mechanisms and calibrating it to interface with the overall AI of the suit. “Don’t say that.” He looked up at him, his glasses falling down the length of his beak as he slid the covering into place.
“Doctor Gearloose, you don’t know that.” Fenton attempted, the feathers along his neck ruffling up as his face paled at the thoughts of what could happen. He squirmed in the confines, all those times he wanted to add some interior padding to the suit were really starting to nag him now.
“I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one.” Gyro said with a smile and a small snort, trying to lighten the mood just a little bit. Fenton looked at him with a blank stare, right, Gyro thought to himself, not the best time for an attempt at humor. “Look,” He tried again, reaching out and grabbing Fenton's hand. How long had he refrained from doing that? From holding Fenton’s hand in such a selfish way that it did little to quell Gyro’s own pounding heart. Beating away like it was a bat in a batting cage and Gyro feared that his ribs might break from the force alone.
Fenton looked at him, his eyes wide and his breath slow, and he was at a loss for words. Which came as a surprise because all Fenton knew was how to talk. And Gyro secretly loved hearing his voice. “Nothing is going to go wrong, ok.” He said, his voice firm, “I can’t promise anything but I know everything is going to be ok, Fenton.”
Fenton quirked an eyebrow, and before Gyro could speak Fenton beat him to it, “You’ve never called me Fenton before.” He whispered and Gyro was taken aback for a moment. He was always Fenton in his mind. When busy thoughts drifted towards his intern and a soft smile would overtake his features. Gyro could feel a blush take over his cheeks and Fenton was quick to continue, “It’s uh, it’s nice.” he said, “You saying my name.”
“Yeah, well.” Gyro said, dropping Fenton’s hand he hadn’t realized he was still holding before continuing, “Don’t get used to it. “ He finished and he would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way Fenton’s smile seemed to make the whole room brighter.
“I won’t.” Fenton replied, leaning forward and before he knew what was happening, his beak connected softly to Gyro’s cheek in a soft kiss. Fenton’s eyes grew wide as he quickly pulled away, “Sorry.” He tried, struggling to find the right words to somehow apologize to his boss and crush. “Uh, good luck? For the end of the world?” He tried.
Fenton was caught off guard when Gyro broke down laughing his beak curling into a smile as he reached towards Fenton and pulled him closer to him. “Yeah, well. If that’s the case you better make it count.” He said, and before Fenton had the chance to ask him what he meant it was Gyro leaning forward connecting their beaks in a kiss. And oh. Oh. Was this what it felt like to kiss someone? The flurry of heat in his body and ice in his veins as he struggled to remember how to breathe. He wanted nothing more than to pull Gyro closer, to never let him go. But like all great and magical things, Gyro pulled away with a blush almost stained to his feathers.
“Just, come back, ok?” He asked and Fenton could only nod his head.
He leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other for a moment before he replied, “For you, always.” He said, and he refrained from kissing him once more. There was an alien invasion to take care of.