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Duck looked up from his book.
“Did you know that three out of four rooms have spiders in them? Unsettling to think about.”
“No, I didn’t know that. I bet there’s a spider right above where you sleep,” Red responded blankly from the couch.
“Don’t say that!” Duck spat back. A few seconds of silence passed.
“Did you know there was a spider that lived to be forty-three years old? I don’t think spiders should live that long or, at all, for that matter.”
“What are you reading?” Red asked.
“A book all about spiders,” Duck replied, looking up from his book.
“Why are you reading a book about spiders if you don’t like spiders?” Red asked, looking at his feet hanging off the arm of the couch.
“They’re so interesting even though they’re scary.”
Red tilted his head back, staining his neck to try to see Duck.
“You’re afraid of spiders?”
Duck shot up, surprised.
“Yes, they have way too many legs and eyes. No one should have that many eyes. They’re just creepy. Are you not afraid of spiders?”
Red stared at the ceiling, his body sinking into the couch.
“I’m afraid of spiders,” Yellow said from the unoccupied arm on the couch.
“I know that,” Duck spat, “You’re afraid of everything.”
“I just don’t see the reason to be afraid of spiders when there’s so many of them. If it really is true that there’s spiders in three out of four rooms-”
“Of course it’s true!” Duck interrupted, “I read it in this book and books don’t lie.”
Red sighed.
“Okay - well - in that case, you’d be living in constant fear that a spider could be anywhere. That sounds exhausting.”
“Well, if you’re not afraid of spiders, what are you afraid of?” Duck asked.
Red thought as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t really think of anything he was afraid of. He could think of things that annoyed him or things that he hated but nothing that made him afraid.
“Nothing came to mind, so I suppose I’m not particularly afraid of anything.”
“Not afraid of anything?” Yellow questioned with a surprised look.
“Nonsense! You’ve ought to be afraid of something. Think harder!” Duck yelled, ignoring his book at this point. Once again, a few seconds of silence passed. And - once again - Red couldn’t think of anything.
“I don’t know what to tell you, mate. Maybe I’m just not afraid of anything.”
Duck scoffed, looking back at his book.
“I’ll find out what you’re scared of sooner or later, I know it,” Duck said, not looking up from his book.
“Alright. Have fun with that,” Red commented.
The next day, Red was making pancakes on the stove top. Duck waddled up behind with the intention of grabbing Red’s shoulders but, due to his height or lack thereof, he was only able to grasp at Red’s legs.
“They’re almost done, sweetheart,” Red cooed.
“Sweetheart?!” Duck yelled out, letting go of Red’s legs. Red spun around.
“You’re not Yellow!”
Red stared down at the green duck at his feet. Duck looked up in confusion at the taller man.
“You call Yellow sweetheart?” Duck questioned with a grimace. Red’s face flushed.
“W-why were you hugging my legs?!” Red shouted, unconsciously holding his spatula as a weapon.
“No!” Duck squaked, “I was trying to scare you!”
“You’re still hung up on that, huh?” Red asked, raising a judgemental eyebrow, “Trying to figure out what I’m afraid of?”
“Yes!” Duck insisted, putting his beak up in disgust, “And I’m not going to stop until I find out.”
“Okay,” Red sighed, “That’s got to get boring after a while.”
Duck scoffed.
“You’re only saying that to deter me because you don’t want me knowing your secrets!”
Duck cranked up the heat; the blue flames engulfed the pan of pancakes.
“Are you afraid of fire?” Duck asked. Red grabbed his hand, turning the heat down with Duck’s hand. He looked sternly in Duck’s eyes.
“You’re going to set the house on fire.”
Duck smiled.
“Afraid that I’m going to set the house on fire?” Duck asked in a cheeky tone, unconsciously setting his wing near the flames.
“If you set the house on fire,” Red started as he grabbed Duck’s wing, pulling it away from the fire, “you’re going to be the one afraid...”
Duck looked into Red’s eyes with fear.
“Afraid of me.” Red let go of Duck’s hand.
“Now, keep your grubby feathers off. I’m trying to make breakfast.”
Despite Red’s demands, Duck would continue to put his grubby feathers all up in Red’s business.
“So… what about heights? Are you afraid of heights?” Duck watched as Red flipped a pancake.
“I sure hope not, considering how tall I am,” Red said in a sarcastic tone.
“Okay, but what about death?”
“If it’s anything like what happened after your death, it sounds more boring than scary.”
Duck sighed, defeated.
“I’ll get through your silly cool guy persona one way or another.”
“You think I’m cool?” Red teased.
“What? No! That’s not what I said! I was talking about that cool guy act of yours. You’re always trying to act cool.”
Red snickered, turning back to the stove.
“I’m not acting like anything so I guess you just think I’m cool.”
Duck grunted, annoyed.
“Whatever,” Duck said, starting to leave the kitchen.
“And you’re not cool,” Duck protested, turning around in the doorway, “you’re lame.”
Duck left the kitchen.
“Do you not want pancakes?” Red asked aloud, looking over his shoulder.
“I don’t want your lame pancakes,” Duck muttered.
“Alright,” Red teased, “me and Yellow will just eat them all then.”
Red waited a few seconds until he heard angry duck feet waddling back into the kitchen. He stifled a laugh at the sound of the cute pitter-patter of Duck’s feet.
“Of course I want pancakes, you idiot. I was only joking. If you eat them all, I’ll bite you.”
Duck shook and grabbed at Red’s legs in a pathetic attempt to attack him.
“You hear me?!” Duck shouted, “I’ll bite you!”
Red snickered to himself as he was oh-so-violently attacked by a small duck.
Later that night, Duck still hadn’t given up on his little mission. It was such a silly thing to keep himself up at night for. Why did it matter whether Red had fears or not? Duck just hated the idea that Red was fearless and Duck was not. Duck was the best one! He couldn’t possibly let Red not be afraid of anything. Everyone was afraid of something and Duck knew he wasn’t quite done trying to figure out what that thing was.
“Monsters are scary,” Duck thought as he lay in his bed.
He then slowly got out of his bed with a grunt and waddled his little duck feet over to Red’s bed where he was fast asleep.
“He’s got to have at least nightmares or something.”
Duck decided he was going to give Red a nightmare whether he was asleep or not. He pulled his small body onto Red’s bed, trying not to make any sound as he struggled. He finally made it on top, crawling onto the sleeping red man. He pulled himself onto Red’s chest and leaned close to his face.
Red struggled and twitched in his sleep. Duck smiled as he inched closer. He decided he would be a scary vampire, coming to drink Red’s blood (despite literally having no teeth). This was sure to scare him.
Duck began to lick Red’s neck. As soon as he did so, Red shot up, awake and frightened. His terrified eyes met with Duck’s devious ones. Red struggled to make out words as he saw and felt his duck friend lick at his neck. He stiffened in shock for a few seconds, breathing heavily as he avoided eye contact with the green duck on top of him.
“What the hell are you doing?!” He whispered-screamed, trying not to be loud.
“I’m going to drink your blood,” Duck replied in a cheeky tone. Red took shakey breaths as he made uncomfortable eye contact with Duck. He was glad he was already red so his flushed red face looked no different, especially in the dark.
“Are you scared?” Duck asked, amused with himself.
“Is that what this is about?”
“Are you afraid I might be a vampire?” Duck asked, making a hissing sound because he had no teeth to stick out.
“What? No!” Red protested, trying to push Duck off of him.
“Then why are you scared?” Duck teased, scooting closer to Red’s face, somehow making Red even more uncomfortable, which Red didn’t know was possible.
“Hah!” Duck laughed.
“I got you, you’re afraid of vampires!” Duck said a little too loudly.
“I’m not afraid of vampires,” Red said tiredly.
“Vampires aren’t even real,” Red commented with a sigh.
“Get off of me, I’m trying to sleep.” He pushed Duck backwards, making Duck fall on his back and put his feet in the air.
“Whatever, scaredy cat. I know what you’re afraid of,” Duck mocked, sitting himself back up in the same position.
“I’m not afraid of vampires, Duck,” Red said, exhausted, staring at the ceiling.
“Th-then,” Duck paused, “you’re afraid of me.”
Red laughed.
“Why would I be afraid of you? Not even Yellow is afraid of you.”
“Because I’m terrifying and I bite,” Duck responded. Red laughed again.
“Go back to your bed before I throw you,” Red threatened playfully.
“Not until you admit you’re absolutely terrified of me.”
Red sighed.
“You are quite literally the most nonthreatening thing in the world.”
“I bite. I’ll show you, I bite,” Duck said, disgruntled. Red laughed tiredly.
“You’re a weirdo, Duck.”
“I am not,” Duck argued.
“Then you’re cute,” Red corrected. Duck’s feathers puffed up and his face flushed.
“I-I am not cute,” Duck angrily said. Red scruffed up Duck’s feathers and, soon, found himself holding Duck’s cheeks in the palms, cupping Duck’s face. He stroked the bristled feathers. He stared into Duck’s confused and slightly scared eyes.
“You’re adorable,” Red muttered, not breaking eye contact.
As Red rubbed circles with his thumbs on the duck’s face, Duck felt himself melt into the embrace. He sighed tiredly, gently closing his eyes.
“You’re afraid of me,” Duck muttered in a tired voice.
“I’m absolutely terrified,” Red mocked in a calm tone.
Eventually, the two fell asleep; Red still holding onto Duck and Duck sprawled out on top of Red