Burning Through Cotton Gloves (baffy)

Burning Through Cotton Gloves

He inhaled. Exhaled. The scent of buttered popcorn, leather shoes and fancy perfume permeated his nostrils. Daffy peered out to look at the crowd from behind the stage, careful that his head wouldn't get caught in the spotlight. He could see the crowd shift as they made themselves comfortable, the orchestra lively playing the prelude for the show. The air on both sides of the curtains were buzzing with anticipation. He basked in these moments before moments, longing and excitement for what was to come.

His spell was interrupted by the huffs and tsks of annoyance behind him. Daffy turned to see his loathsome co-star still struggling with his tie. Bugs noticed, and waved him off.

"Turn back around, get back in position,  I'll be fine."

The duck shifted his weight and settled his hands on his hips. He cocked an eyebrow, watching Bugs mess up his tie even further.

"Don't say anything smart. Gimme a sec—"

Bugs held the fabric, brows furrowing in determination. His hands became a blur, stopping when his fingers tangled themselves with his bow.

40 years of trying, and the rabbit still messed up his ties. Daffy rolled his eyes."Go-lly, I think you almost had it that time". He set aside his cane and began walking towards the helpless hare.

Bugs couldn't bring himself to reply. For Daffy, his scrunched twitchy nose said enough. Daffy also loved these moments when he witnessed his co-star unable to come out on top, rare and minuscule as they were. No one would believe that the flagship toon stumbled as much as he did, but Daffy was satisfied enough that he was witness to Bugs's mishaps.

Daffy brought his manicured feathers up to fabric, humming along to the music as he began untangling  his co-star's hands. Bugs lifted his head to look at the fly loft above him. He grumbled something about how he could remake his bow without help for the umpteenth time.

"Stop fiddlin', I'll getcha out of this sooner if you stand still." He tugged at Bugs's collar, bringing them closer so he could work better. It was awfully dim behind the stage. "I still can't believe you're bad at this—there we go, you can put your hands down—Fortunately for you, I have enough talent to spare in this department! Pay attention," Daffy gloated, "Now...."

Daffy violently tightened a small knot. Bugs gagged, his head cartoonishly ballooning nine times its original size. Bugs glared daggers at the Duck, who hooted in his signature laugh.

"Oh, that didn't kill ya? Darn. Well, tighten the knot: that's the first step." Daffy laughed to himself, loosening the knot to finally let Bugs breathe. His head deflated back to its original size, yet the glare stayed. Daffy didn't care if he would die later, the fact he caught Bugs off guard was a treat in its own.

"Ok, here are the next steps: Leave the Tweety on your shoulder, make Elmer vewy vwey quiet, fold the Tweety over, now it's Taz's tongue. Push the tongue out of the drum, that's all folks!"

Daffy lifted his head and Bugs lowered his. Nose and beak grazing, they faced each other at last. Daffy didn't like making eye contact for long— he hated the reminder that Bugs was half a head taller than him, ears excluded.