My good fellow could I possibly request some *ahem* fenro?
you totally can my dude! tysm!
(Can’t Get You) Outta My Head
Three forty-two AM.
It is three forty-two AM and Gyro’s brain is completely blank.
He lowers his head slowly into his awaiting palms. Blueprints swim behind his eyes. Even in his imagination, they make no sense.
He bangs his head gently on the desk through his hands. He has no ideas. No ideas. No ideas. No ide….
“Dr. Gearloose?”
Gyro jerks awake. He fumbles with his glasses and smooths down the wrinkles of his shirt in vain in an attempt to appear somewhat functional. To pretend he hadn’t just been sleeping at his desk on the job.
Oh, who was he kidding. This is Cabrera, the duck who had seen him chug six consecutive Redbulls and two pots of coffee in an attempt to stay awake for a week during crunch time on a project. There was no point in pretending.
Still, Gyro’s pride demanded that he not fall asleep during the conversation, so he slowly spun around in his desk chair to face his former intern and did his best to not drop his head in his hands. “Cabrera.”
The aforementioned duck stands in front of him, hands clasped behind his back, nervous energy radiating off of him. “Dr. Gearloose, you look…”
“Horrible?” Gyro supplies dryly. “Like death himself?”
“Eh, Mrs. Beakley showed me a picture of Death after training one day. He doesn’t look too bad,” Fenton says, offhandedly. Gyro is too tired to fully process what that means.
Gyro is losing his internal battle. His eyelids are drooping. He props up his hand up on the arm of his chair, and his internal battle only rages for a few seconds before his head falls into it. (It feels like utter hours.)
Fenton pauses from whatever tirade he’s about to launch into and reexamines Gyro with a new fervor. “Dr. Gearloose?”
“Mmph?” Gyro replies, too tired to come up with a coherent response. It’s hard enough to form his thoughts into strings of words and sentences that make sense to everyone else on a good day. Today, he’s too tired to come up with words in the first place.
“Are you sure you’re alright to keep working?” Fenton questions, a little bit hesitantly, but he knows his boss well by now. “I can get out the cot. O-or drive you home?”
Gyro blinks hazily up at Fenton. “You can drive?”
It’s not really what he intended to say, but it gets the focus off him and his energy level. Besides, Gyro can’t drive, so he tends to assume no one can until proven otherwise. It’s not his best trait; it’s just how his brain works.
Gyro realizes while he’s been processing his thoughts to himself, Fenton replied, and he has no idea what Fenton said.
Maybe that’s for the best. It’s not like he would be able to form an eloquent reply anyway.
“Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton says, a little more firmly this time. Maybe whatever Fenton said was important. “Gyro.”
“Hmm?” Gyro replies. His eyelids are slipping closed. They can’t close, he has to stay awake, he has to stay awake-!
“Ooohkay,” Fenton mutters, more to himself than to Gyro. Gyro doesn’t reply. At the silence, Fenton steps closer, closer, too close-! and kneels next to Gyro’s desk chair. He slips an arm around Gyro’s middle and starts to help him up.
Fenton, pressed against him, is soft and warm, and Gyro might fall asleep right then and there if not for the spurt of internal panic and adrenaline that comes with Fenton’s proximity. His figurative internal processor restarts panickedly, but it sputters and won’t function. Gyro is left with panic coursing through his body but unable to do anything about it. He just stares at the hazy, soft figure of Fenton. It takes every ounce of strength in his body to not lean his head on Fenton’s shoulder, no matter how soft and warm Fenton is, and how inviting his shoulder looks.
Gyro somehow lets Fenton haul him to his feet, and they take slow, wavering steps over to the cot at the end of the lab. At some point during all of this, Lil’ Bulb had hopped off of his charging station, grabbed a pair of snap glowsticks (where the hell did he get those?), and is leading them over like a traffic conductor.
As they reach their destination, Gyro’s brain suddenly kicks into high gear as he realizes what Fenton’s intentions are. “Wait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! I can’t sleep, Cabrera, I have a job to do-”
“You and I both know Mr. McDuck hates that we stay in here off the clock,” Fenton reprimands him, not shaken at all, and Gyro feels heat rushing to his cheeks. Cabrera is significantly less bumbling than he remembers, and when the hell did his awkward little intern become so comfortable with him?!
Akita never would’ve-
Wait.
I will not be like Akita. I will not be like Akita. Akita was horrible to me, and Boyd. He is not a good role model. I will be a better mentor for my not-intern. I will not be like Akita.
It is with that thought in mind that Gyro refrains himself from struggling as Fenton eases him onto the chaise, and ohhh the chaise is so soft, nothing like his uncomfortable desk chair, and suddenly Gyro’s not regretting this as much as he thought he would.
The one thing he misses is Fenton’s warmth as his coworker eases away. Gyro resists the urge to shiver as he slides his glasses off his nose and puts them down next to his head. He’s pretty sure Fenton picks them up and puts them in a more secure place (good thinking), but his eyelids are already slipping closed and the fight to stay awake is long, long lost.
The relationship that Akita and I had is nothing like the relationship Fenton and I have, anyway.
Gyro freezes. Panic shoots through his body. All thoughts of sleeping are now gone.
Where the hell did that thought come from?!
It’s true. Gyro won’t contest that. But it’s… it’s weird to think about his relationship with Fenton that way.
But he does miss Fenton’s body heat. Yes, that’s it. He’s cold. The lab is underwater, and the sterile lights are blinding. Not a good environment for sleep. Not homey and cozy. Fenton is.
“Fenton?” Gyro mumbles. Without his usual sharp precision, it comes out more like Fen-uhn, the way Huey says it.
Between Gyro’s fatigue and lack of glasses, Fenton is simply a mere brown blur. Gyro almost misses how the blur stiffens and startles at the sound of his voice. “Yes, Dr. Gearloose?”
Gyro suddenly realizes he doesn’t have the energy to translate the abstract idea of what he wants into words. He doesn’t even know what he wants. Just… Fenton. Fenton’s presence.
When Gyro doesn’t reply, Fenton comes over, worried. “Dr. Gearloose? Gyro? Oh what am I doing, he probably fell asleep.”
Gyro grumbles indignantly at that, making Fenton chuckle. The scientist hovers awkwardly at the edge of the cot, unsure. Gyro isn’t sure either, but he’s too damn tired to doubt himself.
Fenton starts and yelps with surprise when an arm shoots out from beneath Gyro’s lump of body mass (that’s exactly what he feels like right now) and wraps ungracefully around his waist, like a petulant cat. “Umm… Dr. Gearloose?”
Gyro mumbles again and tugs the lump of soft and warm in his arms closer.
“O-okay… um… I guess we’re doing this,” Fenton mumbles, more to himself than to Gyro. He sits down delicately on the chaise, on the very edge as to not disturb Gyro. No longer pulling Fenton towards him, Gyro’s arms sag and flop into Fenton’s lap. He no longer has the energy to pull Fenton in, but his arms still rest around Fenton all the same.
For a couple minutes, they sit like that. Fenton perched on the very edge of the cot, ready to jump off at any minute, but as the time passes he slowly relaxes into Gyro’s arms.
It’s not enough for Gyro’s sleep-addled sense, and slowly, oh so slowly, he tugs Fenton just a little closer.
He doesn’t want to disturb Fenton, but also he’s tired, so so tired, too tired to be polite. Fenton is warm and soft, and that’s what Gyro wants.
So when Fenton doesn’t respond to his too-subtle tugging, he sighs and yanks Fenton into his arms.
Fenton squeaks with shock, but Gyro’s too tired to notice the social faux pas he’s just made. With Fenton close in his arms, he promptly falls asleep, Fenton still entangled in his unbreakable embrace.
Fenton slowly twists his head as far as it can go, trying to gauge Gyro’s level of wakefulness. After successfully deciphering that he probably can’t get up without disturbing Gyro, he lets out a soft sigh and relaxes into Gyro’s embrace.
It’s… surprisingly comfortable. Not surprisingly. Fenton doesn’t know why he would be surprised. It makes sense. It’s almost four in the morning and he’s curled up on a chaise lounge with someone cuddling him.
But that someone is Dr. Gyro Gearloose, and that’s panic-inducing enough for Fenton on its own.
Fenton’s eyelids are drooping closed, and as he’s slipping into sleep’s waiting arms he recognizes the irony of him trying to get Gyro to go to sleep and falling asleep himself as well.
Manny comes into the lab promptly at seven AM, takes in the picture before him, and promptly leaves. But not before phoning Mr. McDuck and taking Lil’ Bulb out for a boys’ night on the town.
As for Mr. McDuck, he borrows Launchpad’s phone to snap a couple blackmail photos (which inexplicably get sent to Della, no she has no idea how that happened) before banging his cane against the wall.
“Oi! Wake UP!!! I’m paying you to work, not cuddle!! Bless me bagpipes…”
Scrooge leaves to do his own job and gets back to haggling with the Board, leaving the two very flustered scientists to sort themselves out.
Gyro buys time by fumbling around for his glasses, trying to hide the bright blush that colors his feathers. Luckily for Fenton, he can’t see the matching one on Fenton’s face.
“Here,” Fenton mumbles, passing the glasses to Gyro. “I put them on your desk.”
“Thanks,” Gyro replies, stilted. “That was… nice of you.”
They both know he’s not only thinking about the glasses.
“Should we… I don’t know, talk about this?” Fenton guesses, rubbing a hand awkwardly along the side of his arm. His usually meticulously ironed tie is wrinkled and rumpled like he just got out of a fight or an experiment, but the day has barely started.
Gyro rubs at his eyes under his glasses, still blinking sleep away. “I don’t know… I barely remember what happened. I was at my desk, and… an’ you helped me to the chaise, I think…?”
“Yeah, that sounds right,” Fenton replies. After a beat, he continues, hesitantly and warily. “And then… you, you, um, hugged me. And wouldn’t let go.”
Gyro’s head snaps up, panic sparking in his gut. “I- Huh?”
“Yeah.” Fenton rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. He won’t meet Gyro’s gaze. “You’ve, um, got an awful tight grip when you’re sleeping.”
“I… um… thanks?” Gyro hedges. The cards did not cover this.
He takes a deep breath.
“Listen, Cabrera,” he begins. “I… it’s not always easy to fall asleep here. Especially on that couch. It always feels so… exposed.”
Silence hangs heavy in the air for a few moments before Gyro continues.
“I guess… you made me feel safe enough to fall asleep. So… thank you.”
Fenton’s been working for and with Gyro far long enough to know that thank-yous, second only to apologies, are not easy for the scientist to get out. So it means even more. He ducks his head awkwardly, hiding his blush. “Um, you’re welcome. It was actually really nice.”
“Yeah,” Gyro echoes softly, fondly, then freezes, wishing he could take the words back. But when he chances a slow glance up at Fenton’s face, the duck doesn’t look all too bothered by the sentiment.
“So… what now?” Fenton wonders, half to himself. None of his M’ma’s telenovas or his superhero comics from boyhood ever taught him what to do in these kinds of moments.
“Get back to work, I suppose,” Gyro shrugs, although he’s not very enthusiastic. Truthfully, he’d much rather spend his day cuddling with Fenton - which is saying something, since Gyro’s one true passion is inventing. “We don’t want Mr. McDuck to come down here and yell at us again.”
“Yeah,” Fenton replies, disappointed. He slowly turns away, gathering up his blueprints from where he scattered them a few hours ago.
One of his blueprints is currently residing on Gyro’s desk. Fenton saves that one for last, not wanting to face more awkward moments. But once all the rest of his blueprints are safely piled on his desk in the former bathroom, he has to face the music.
Fenton takes a deep breath and strides up to Gyro’s desk.
Gyro had been massaging his temples, trying to fend off a headache, but he glances up at Fenton. He’s not annoyed like he usually is when Fenton interrupts him, but doesn’t look happy, either.
“Cabrera,” Gyro breathes. Maybe he is annoyed. “What do you need?”
To Fenton’s credit, he has every intention to simply grab his blueprint and go. Today would become a moment he’d tuck away in his brain, trying to forget it and cherishing it at the same time.
But instead, some other desire takes over.
When it’s done, he can’t explain his actions, but he doesn’t regret them, either.
Fenton reaches for his blueprint, which is right by Gyro’s hands. Then he stops.
His hands turn to Gyro’s instead, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s pulled Gyro into a kiss.
It’s already happening when Fenton finally processes exactly what is going on. Gyro’s eyes are blown wide behind his glasses, but neither of them pull away. At least, not right away.
When they do, Fenton’s hair is ruffled and Gyro is gaping like a fish. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
Fenton doesn’t say anything either. Neither of them know what to say. They just keep staring at each other.
Gyro was never too comfortable with silence, though, not like this. At long last, the inventor clears his throat. “Um. So.”
Fenton’s brain kickstarts at the sound of Gyro’s voice, hesitant and shocked, and immediately a million apologies fly to the tip of his tongue. But they never get a chance to see the light of day.
“I could get used to that,” Gyro mumbles, then immediately snaps his hands over his bill, slamming it shut. But the damage is done.
If the two scientists weren’t blushing before, they definitely are now.
“Me too,” Fenton replies before he can stop himself. The corners of Gyro’s bill quirk up in the faintest of smiles, just for a moment.
This time Gyro’s the one to grab Fenton by the tie and pull him close for a second round.
~
okay this is all over the place haha but i just kinda wanted to get it done! it was supposed to be for fenro week, but that’s over now, so oh well. i might try to do something for weblena week since that’s happening now but idk.
definitely projecting a lil on gyro here with the bit about not being able to directly translate your thoughts into words that other people understand all the time, and how it gets worse when you’re tired. gyro definitely reads as neurodivergent to me, and i hc him as autistic (projecting lol), so that’s how i write him! i had a conversation today with some friends about kins and hcs today and one of my friends reads him as adhd, which is totally valid too. he’s definitely neurodivergent coded.
idk where i was going with that lol but enjoy!
title is from outta my head by somi. it’s not really all that relevant to the fic itself but it just kinda stuck with me while i started the fic. anyway i hope you like it! @fenro-week