Ducktales Oneshots

Choose Your Last Words Wisely

Never in a million years would Gyro have thought that he would keep Fenton on the job for more than a couple weeks, much less have him be promoted (not by HIM, mind you) and use one of his most prized, coveted inventions daily. He was just another intern Scrooge forced him to hire. He had to admit, having someone else do the trivial tasks was a bit of a stress-reliever. But having that come with a bubbly, chatty disturbance to his workplace peace was, at times, almost a deal-breaker.

Today was a particularly bad day. Everything was just a constant stream of mistakes and bad luck that blew up in Gyro's face every three seconds. His alarm had gone off way too early and then not at all, completely disrupting his perfectly planned sleep schedule. The coffee shop had been out of his favorite coffee. On top of that, they had searched for fifteen minutes to no avail, making him waste precious time and having nothing to show for it but sickeningly sweet hazelnut coffee. Hazelnut! What a disgrace.

When he had finally arrived at work, after getting stuck in traffic for almost an hour, he had to deal with his staff's worried comments. They arrived before him, which was NEVER supposed to happen!! Gyro was mortified. And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, every single invention he laid a finger on went horrifyingly wrong. He had already wasted enough time. He should be making progress! But the time he did have was being utterly wasted on trivial discrepancies that shouldn't have come up at all. He was Gyro Gearloose, for crying out loud. He was a genius! Geniuses didn't get pitying looks from their inferior staff all day. Geniuses didn't have days where at least half of their work was completely unproductive.

To say the least, Gyro was not in a good mood.

He chose not to take a lunch break, trying his best to be productive. Instead he slumped at his desk, staying away from his precious, apparently precarious inventions. He turned to blueprints instead, hoping that he wasn't spreading his horrible luck to future projects.

Sipping the cheap coffee from Scrooge's overpriced machines, which was somehow better than the awful hazelnut coffee from the morning, was the only thing keeping him tethered to his work. His mind kept wandering to the day's absurd events, the sickeningly sweet coffee, the quiet footsteps getting closer and closer to his somewhat peaceful lab... wait, what?!

Gyro turned, quick as a whistle, just in time to see the doorknob turn and his infuriatingly persistent assistant poke his head inside.

He rolled his eyes and shifted to a more comfortable position. "Fenton, it's lunch. What do you want?"

Fenton raised his eyebrows and gestured to Gyro, working with his nonexistent lunch. "You're not eating," he pointed out.

Gyro huffed. "I need to get some work done. You're just an assistant. You're fine. Go eat and leave me alone."

Fenton pressed his lips together and stared defiantly at the floor, taking a moment to gather his words. Gyro didn't miss the odd way his eyebrows knitted together, but he blinked and they were back to normal. It could have been a hallucination from a lack of sleep, food, and good coffee. After all, why on earth would Fenton make that expression?

Fenton took a deep breath. "Well, hopefully my work is just a little bit valuable, since you would never be able to function without it," he shot back, a surprising edge paired with his unusually sharp words.

Gyro blanched. Fenton was never snappy. Frustratingly idiotic and cheerful, yes, but not accusatory. Maybe this time Scrooge would finally let him fire Fenton for talking back.

...Although, Fenton was frustratingly correct. The preparatory work that he, Manny, and Lil' Bulb did was invaluable for the lab's well-being and his own work.

And, for some weird reason, the thought of firing Fenton for real this time, after everything he'd done, left a weird, cold feeling deep in Gyro's belly.

Emotions were aggravatingly difficult, but Gyro would peg it as... fear. Or guilt?

But why?

Realizing Fenton was staring at him, blinking hard, and he was just sitting glazed-eyed in silence, Gyro struggled to form a string of coherent words that wouldn't make it seem like he was just pondering his guilty feelings about firing Fenton. "I would be fine without you. I was fine before. You, on the other hand, are nothing without me. You shouldn't even have this job, or the Gizmosuit, but Mr. McDuck likes you for some unfathomable reason. That's the only reason you're here. Don't go getting a big head just because Mr. McDuck doesn't understand how irritatingly stupid you really are."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, sharp realization pierced Gyro. Not only were they (mostly) false, they were unusually harsh, even for him.

Not that he would ever admit it. Fenton could take the heat. He wasn't that sensitive.

Right?

...Wrong.

Gyro could see the moment his words set in. Fenton's eyes got huge. His shoulders slackened, then tensed up again. His hands closed into tight fists, and they began to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, so softly, Gyro wasn't sure if he had really heard it.

It was fascinating, but that curiosity was completely overshadowed by the onslaught of that cold, steely feeling he had felt before. It consumed him, poking him everywhere with a thousand tiny, painful needles and eating him up from inside. His heart twisted at the sight of Fenton and how, even to Gyro, obvious it was that his words were completely beyond hurtful.

Gyro let out a long sigh and slumped back in his chair, all the fight draining out of him. He opened his beak to apologize, to say something that would turn Fenton into his annoying but comfortingly normal self, but no words came.

For once in his life, he had absolutely no idea how to fix the problem.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Fenton whispered, his eyes glassy and wet, and Gyro's heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

He gasped, grasping furiously for something, anything to say. "Fenton, I... I don't..."

"Save it," Fenton snapped, his voice cracking. He turned his head away quickly, but Gyro didn't miss the tears, sparkling under the lab's fluorescent lights, as they splashed onto the floor.
"I swear I don't hate you," Gyro tried, but even to his own ears it seemed halfhearted. Fenton said nothing, but hugged himself tightly..The crushing feeling of despair that was swiftly overcoming Gyro only worsened.

"I know you're lying," Fenton whispered.

"I'm not lying," Gyro protested. "I don't lie. I'm a very literal person. You know that, Fenton."

Fenton whipped his head back around to stare at Gyro, fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. "Then you meant every word that you said to me."

Stunned, Gyro opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Fenton glared anguished at him. "That's what I thought."

He stared icily at Gyro for a few more moments. The fire in his eyes began to die down. He swiped at his eyes and in one swift, jerky movement, grabbed his bag off of his desk and stalked towards the door. "You know what? I'm going home until I can deal with this like an adult. Unlike you. Tell Mr. McDuck he doesn't have to pay me for today."

Gyro stared at him for a few moments before leaping into action. "Fenton, wait-"

But the door slammed shut with finality, and he was already gone.

Stunned, Gyro slumped back in his chair, letting it roll away from the desk and bump into Fenton's. He didn't try to stop it.

Gyro stared at the closed door for a long time.

A/N: Woohoo! It's been a long time since I've posted on here, and we're starting out this book with angst. Fun.
When I posted this on tumblr, ao3, and amino, people asked if I would consider making a sequel. And I want to, but I don't have any ideas yet. So it's here for now, but if you come back to this book and it's gone, I probably wrote a sequel and made it its own book. ^^
This was a tumblr request with the prompt "Why do you hate me so much?"  Ouch.