Work Text:
Gyro didn’t mind the winter. Well, he didn’t think of himself as minding winter. Or minding much in particular, although anyone who met him would argue otherwise. It was only things that got in the way of his work that he took notice of minding.
Things like sleep, or having to organize his workspace, or Scrooge’s stupid lab employee rule.
As it was presently, Gyro’s resentment was about to be directed at the last item on that list. And maybe a little bit at Fenton, too.
After a couple of incidents involving Gyro showing up to meetings irate and looking unkempt and unrested, Scrooge made it official company policy that every person working full-time in the lab was required to take periodic mandatory breaks. One of these detailed rules stated that employees had to leave the lab and the Money Bin altogether, with the intention that they would go somewhere and sleep, or get a good meal, or at the very least some fresh air and recharge.
Naturally, all of this was put into place to target Gyro specifically, but the force with which Gyro could ignore any and everything besides his work proved to be formidable. Fenton sensed that the time had come for him to be formidabler.
“Dr. Gearloose, you’ve really got to take at least some of your breaks,” Fenton said, standing beside his coworker’s desk.
Gyro hummed faintly, this annoyance so minor that it barely broke through his busy skull.
Fenton huffed out a breath. Gyro had been working around the clock for the last week, and Fenton had too, but at least Fenton went home at night. Slept in a bed. Stretched his legs every so often.
Gyro had done none of those things. Every time Fenton clocked back into work, Gyro was right where he left him. And Fenton knew for a fact that the only sleep his coworker might possibly get was unintentionally at his desk, or on the old chaise lounge that barely had any padding. A few days ago, Fenton had brought in an old but comfortable blanket from home and left it at the end of the couch. While it comforted him to notice that it had since been used, it wasn’t as comforting as it would’ve been to know that Gyro was actually doing anything outside of the confines of the lab.
Of course, Gyro was a grown adult. He didn’t need a babysitter, he could take care of himself. He did seem to manage just fine before Fenton showed up.
On the other hand, Fenton had been sharing a lab space with him for the better part of six months, and he was pretty sure that logic didn’t hold any weight. He also knew that meaningful science couldn’t develop if the scientists weren’t at their best.
“Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton boomed, or at least that’s what he was going for. It manifested less severely than he imagined, but he straightened his back and held his ground.
When Gyro looked up, his face was caught somewhere between annoyance and bewilderment.
“What is it, Cabrera?” he said impatiently.
“Mr. McDuck trusts me to work in this lab, and to do the best work that I can. He trusts you, too, and I don’t think you’re at your best.”
“Excuse me?” Gyro said in a shrill voice. Fenton quickly sidestepped in a different direction.
“I just think you need to take a break! I know for a fact you haven’t left the lab in at least a week, and policy says you’re supposed to go outside at least every few days—”
Gyro looked at the clock on the wall and stood from his desk. Fenton took several paces backwards.
“If I go outside for ten minutes will you stop bothering me while I’m working?” Gyro asked.
“Policy states that it has to be twenty minutes, actually,” Fenton said helpfully.
“Fine.” Gyro headed for his recently unused coat.
He pulled it on, making sure he had his phone and work ID. When he noticed Fenton right behind him doing the same, he stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m taking my break too,” Fenton said as he wrapped a scarf around his neck.
“So, no one’s going to do any work for the next twenty minutes?” Gyro asked incredulously.
“Manny’s got it until we get back, and frankly I don’t trust you not to go upstairs and stand next to the Pep vending machines and work on your tablet the whole time. Speaking of,” Fenton said, holding his hand out, palm up.
“Just tell me what you want,” Gyro said flatly.
“The tablet! If you’re on it the whole time it defeats the purpose.”
Gyro handed over the tablet, but he didn’t let go right away. He sighed longingly as Fenton carefully left it plugged into its charger on a nearby desk. Fenton turned around as the elevator dinged, and gestured for Gyro to get in first. He grumbled as he did.
Outside, Gyro had to shield his eyes for a few moments while he adjusted to the first natural light he’d seen in days. Fenton breathed in the fresh, cold air as Gyro checked his phone. Only eighteen and a half stupid minutes to go.
“Actually, the break doesn’t start until you’re outside, so it’s still twenty minutes,” Fenton corrected.
Gyro hadn’t even realized he’d said that out loud. Thinking aloud was a habit that he fell into when he didn’t get a lot of sleep. So, almost always. It was just easier to keep track of his thoughts that way, and he was used to doing it lately. Begrudgingly, he followed Fenton into the Duckburg Bay Park that crept along the shore on opposite sides of the Money Bin.
To Gyro’s surprise, Fenton didn’t chatter to fill up the somewhat awkward space that often existed between coworkers. Instead, he heard only the waves lapping at the frozen shore somewhere below the elevated boardwalk, and the muted sounds of a city at its outskirts. This break wasn’t as irritating as he’d expected it to be.
He checked his phone. Nineteen minutes left. Damn.
Gyro stuffed his phone back in his coat pocket and looked at Fenton, who seemed totally happy to be out in the cold. Though his cheeks were flushed pink in the wind, Fenton wore a soft looking purple and navy patterned scarf around his neck, and his puffy black coat appeared to be keeping him warm.
Though Gyro’s peacoat was stylish, it was a few years old now, and not quite as insulating as it had been when he first bought it. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and tightened his shoulders against the wind. He was so occupied with trying to keep warm that he didn’t pay any attention to his surroundings.
As Fenton led him through the park, past empty benches and a couple of dedicated joggers, Gyro struggled not to check his phone every second. He didn’t think to bring gloves with him, and he could feel the icy cold creeping into his bones every time he risked a glance at the time.
After what felt like agonizing hours, about four minutes, Fenton tugged on Gyro’s coat sleeve to get his attention.
“Let’s go this way,” Fenton said, and Gyro had no desire to question him. Everything including thinking and breathing was making him cold.
Fenton led him back toward the road and pointed across the street to their destination: a cozy looking coffee shop. The warm glow from the big front windows may as well have been God’s divine light shining directly for Gyro—a warm, caffeinated beacon of hope.
Fenton opened the door and Gyro hurried in, gasping in the warm air and aroma of coffee beans and cinnamon. Behind him, Fenton closed the door and steered Gyro over to a padded bench that spanned the far wall from the barista’s counter. The dark cushions were soft and there were a couple of loose pillows on the bench and surrounding chairs. Gyro was rubbing his hands together and blowing warm air onto them as he sat down.
He only looked up when he saw felt something in his space. Fenton had taken off his scarf in the warm room, only to drape it around Gyro’s neck instead.
“Sorry for dragging you out in the cold,” Fenton apologized. “Wait here.”
Gyro couldn’t think of anything to say, and Fenton didn’t wait for a response. Gyro watched as his coworker ordered something, and as the barista moved easily behind the counter.
Sharing clothing and personal items was a foreign concept to Gyro. He never would have thought to ask to borrow something warm, but Fenton saw his need and cared enough to try to fix, at least a little. As many times as Gyro had witnessed Fenton’s selfless nature, it always stunned him to be on the receiving end of it, even in small ways.
A minute later, Fenton returned with two steaming mugs and carefully placed one in front of Gyro, who regarded it for several long seconds. His brain had begun to defrost, but apparently not quickly enough. He lifted his gaze to Fenton, who was looking at him expectantly.
“I don’t have my wallet,” Gyro said slowly.
Fenton smiled as if he’d heard something funny.
“It’s on me,” Fenton said. “I didn’t think about how cold it was today, I only wanted you to take a break. It’s my way of saying ‘I’m sorry for torturing you.’”
“Well, Cabrera. I suppose I accept your apology. That was very…” Gyro paused, searching for the words. “Thoughtful… of you.”
Gyro took the mug in his hands, thrilled a little by the warmth, and took a sip. And nearly spat it out.
“Gyro! Are you okay?” Fenton asked. Gyro’s face was completely twisted up in equal measures horror and confusion.
“What is this?” he said after a hard swallow.
“It’s… hot chocolate?”
“Oh my god,” Gyro said. A peal of hysterical laughter escaped from his throat. “Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever had that before!”
Now Fenton was the one struggling to find a response.
“You’ve never had hot chocolate before?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Gyro mused. “But not that I can remember, anyway. Hmm.”
Gyro hummed as he took another sip, his face screwed up like he was studying test results.
“When was the last time you had a drink that didn’t have any caffeine in it?” Fenton asked after a minute.
“Is there not caffeine in this?” Gyro asked.
“You are so weird, Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton laughed. Gyro simply shrugged.
“I’ve been called worse. And you can call me Gyro. I’m not your boss, and we’re not in the lab, so… you can call me Gyro,” he finished lamely.
“Okay,” Fenton agreed. “But only if you call me Fenton.”
He faltered after a moment of silence.
“That’s my first name,” he elaborated. Gyro looked at him strangely.
“I know what your name is,” Gyro said.
“I was just making sure! It can be hard to tell with you,” Fenton said.
As the pair sipped at their hot chocolates, Fenton began to chatter about work, and his mom, and whatever else came to mind. Gyro found himself appreciating the distraction. Fenton’s words seemed to warm him almost the same way the warm atmosphere and hot chocolate had.
Suddenly, Fenton looked at something on another side of the room and frowned slightly.
“Oh, it looks like we went over our break a little,” Fenton said. Gyro sat up.
“Really?” The chicken checked his own phone in disbelief. Sure enough, it had been twenty-four minutes since they stepped foot outside the Money Bin. Gyro had gone through half his break—and more!—without checking his phone or the time. He was totally thrown off by that turn of events. It was like looking in a mirror and not quite recognizing your reflection. But, not hating what you see, either.
Fenton collected their empty mugs and deposited them in a bin at the back of the café, bidding the barista a good day as he passed.
“Ready to go back to work?” he asked as he joined Gyro by the door.
“I believe I am,” Gyro said. Though he was loath to take breaks from his work, Gyro actually felt somewhat refreshed. Probably due to his body having to readjust its temperature so much in a short period.
Regardless, he’d very nearly lost track of time, which was something that never happened in social situations, or outside of the lab at all. It was different. It was… nice.
“Oh, wait! Your scarf,” Gyro said, and reached to unwrap it from his neck. Fenton shook his head.
“Wear it back to the lab, you need it more than I do,” Fenton said.
“Thank you,” Gyro said. He wanted to specify that he meant it as a thank you for the warmth, for the break, for giving a damn about him when Gyro hadn’t given him much reason to.
Fenton nodded like he understood anyway. Gyro looked away. He wasn’t used to any kind of emotional vulnerability, no matter how slight. He stepped forward and opened the door.
“Shall we?”