Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: Nice

Summary: Fenton and Gyro hang out at a gay bar.

...

"It was nice of Manny to give us a ride," Fenton hesitantly offered as they walked into the bar. He licked his thumb and forefinger, quenching the fire on the tip of his tail with a relieved sigh.

Gyro, soaked to the bone and generally not having a good time, grunted. "Not enough alcohol in my system. Compliment decor later."

"Um, Dr. Gearloose?"

"Is it bad news?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then save it." Gyro settled into a booth without delay, reluctantly gesturing for Fenton to get in across from him. "This place is practically deserted. Can't a guy get a drink in a timely fashion?"

"I mean," he said sheepishly. "We did just go through a big war against our own shadows."

"Details, details." He waved it off. "Alright, I'm seated. Tell me the news."

"My shadow took the suit, sir."

Gyro stared him down a moment, face full of bags, before pinching the edge of his beak. "It's pathetic, the lows I have sunken into, that I'm not surprised by that news."

Panic shot through Fenton like most kinds of dairy did his stomach. "Dr. Gearloose?"

"Look," he said. "This is a problem. A problem that could easily get us both fired, and if such an occurrence were to occur I would hunt you down, but I'm tired and soaked and I just fought my darker half in a way that's not even slightly philosophical. So I vote we drink until we're as close to stupid as someone of my intelligence can get, maybe pick up some hot guys, and blame it on De Spell if we can't find it in the morning."

"Uh..." Fenton hesitated, then remembered how rare it was for the scientist to let anyone off the hook, no matter the reason. He bobbed his head up and down obediently. "Yes, sir."

Amongst the commotion and damage, it takes almost an hour for their drinks to arrive. Fenton spent that time awkwardly fidgeting his hands and wondering how much- if any- damage the house had sustained. Gyro spent it people-watching, squinting through the slowly gathering crowd of tired and traumatized people looking to get the edge off.

"There's never anything good on the table when I'm here," he grumbled, clinking the ice around in his glass. "I mean, sure, I only ever come around after one of my inventions blows up half the city, but I deserve better than Sideburns McGee or Machismo Ultra over there." Gyro shrugged. "Guess I'll have to settle for you, Cabrera."

Fenton squeaked. He wasn't proud of it, but them's the facts. "Sir?"

The scientist seemed to realize the rudeness to his statement, grimacing. "Where's those cards when you need them? What I meant to say is that I do like you, Cabrera. You challenge me. I like challenges. Just not in my work. And I would be honored if you would accompany me for the night- n-not for anything romantic, necessarily. I'm just too worked up after losing the lab to go home and sleep."

"Oh." A pleasant warmth made its way over Fenton's face. "Only if you call me Fenton."

"I extend the same to you, Fenton."

He reached over for a handshake. "I'm flattered, Gyro."

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this commission! Gyro has a very particular way of talking that's interesting to mimic.

-Mandaree1