“Wayne Newton!” Minerva’s voice sounds from just outside of the door-frame, nearly catching Duck off guard. Her footsteps are heavy as she rushes into the room, “I have to ask you something of extreme importance!”
He raises a brow at that, “uh - okay. Go, uh - go ahead, honey-”
“That is precisely what I need to ask you about!” She says in a bold proclamation, leaving Duck completely clueless.
He can only stare at first, finally managing a confused “What?” But then it clicks. Almost immediately, he starts to stumble over his words as he grows a bit flustered, “oh - uh, is - is this about me calling you “honey” or - I mean, I can stop that if you want, I, uh, I just-”
“You do not have to stop, Wayne Newton,” she says, “I understand that this is a term of affection and I thoroughly enjoy it!” She smiles a little at that, and Duck can’t help but to smile too (and, fuck, Minerva always lights up a room with her mere presence, but her smile could rival the damn sun). “I just have to ask the origins of this affectionate title.”
Again, he stares at her, perplexed once more before he remembers that Minerva definitely doesn’t quite know (or, maybe, understand what honey is). “Oh. Uh. Yeah - I, uh, I can explain-” He starts, before clearing his throat, “okay, so, uh, there’s - you, uh, you know about bees, right?”
“I know about bees, Wayne Newton-” She interjects but stops when he nods, understanding that he’s about to pick up.
And he does, after another pause and internal debate on how to explain this sort of thing. “Well, uh, bees, uh, y’know… they make honey, and, uh-”
“Yes,” she says, a bit more impatient this time, “but this doesn’t explain why you call me “honey,” Wayne Newton! I asked you because I don’t understand why you continue to compare me to this specific substance.”
Oh. He drops his gaze a bit, and he can feel his face growing warmer as he lowers his voice, almost embarrassed to actually say it aloud. “It’s, uh, I- I, uh, I… I think you’re real sweet.”
She stares at him wide-eyed for a moment before she smiles again. “Is that it?” She asks, before a pretty little tinge of amusement lights up her voice, “I also think you are quite sweet, Wayne Newton!”
He can’t fight the smile that crosses his face, and he can’t bring himself to actually look at Minerva in that moment. “Oh. Uh. Shit-” He says, voice quiet, “uh, thanks, Minerva-”
“Of course!” She beams, “it’s the truth, Wayne Newton! You are sweet and you should know that-” She pauses for a half-beat, “are you alright, Wayne Newton?” She asks, “you’re very red right now-”
“I’m fine, Minerva,” he says, still unable to meet her gaze, “I’m, uh, just-”
“Would it help if I got you some water?” She asks, and for a moment Duck isn’t sure if she doesn’t realize he’s a fucking flustered mess, or if she’s just being blissfully ignorant of the fact for his sake. Either way, he musters up a nod, and Minerva is out of the room in a blur of motion.
And Duck can’t help but smile like a damn idiot.