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In The Dark part three: adventures and vacations

Rated: G

Ships: Drakepad (Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack), Drake & Launchpad & Gosalyn, megaliquiroot (Megavolt/Liquidator/Bushroot)

Word Count: ~9k

A/N: This took so long and I'm sorry, but I never forgot about ti!

These days Della flew for more McDuck adventures than Launchpad did. It left Drake feeling simultaneously grateful and highly annoyed. Grateful that he got his partner back for patrols and that he didn't have to worry about him being gone for days and possibly just never coming back because of getting stuck in a trap. Of course, the patrols were dangerous too. But at least with Launchpad by his side he'd know if he was hurt. Even if Launchpad tried to hide it. Again.

It annoyed him because Launchpad missed it. Not that Launchpad would say it. Instead he smiled and insisted everything was okay. But Launchpad didn't need to say anything for Drake to know it. He enjoyed going on those adventures with the McDuck clan. And Della stole that from him. So even though Drake wanted to thank her for returning his partner to him, part of him hated her.

Though sometimes Della couldn't go on the adventures. She'd be sick or need a break. Those times Launchpad would fly. It helped Launchpad miss it less. Of course it also meant nights where Drake patrolled alone again. Mostly alone. Every night since Launchpad went on his first McDuck adventure his phone greeted him with a barrage of texts. Like clockwork, they’d always appear around when his patrol would start.

It was almost like Launchpad was there, sometimes. The rambling nature of his texts. Hearing about the adventure. Drake never responded at first. But then after the fifth or so adventure he started to. Sometimes it let Drake pretend his sidekick was right there with him. Until he inevitably returned to a bed that felt bigger than usual.

So much bigger.

They didn't only appear at night, either. Launchpad made sure to keep him and Gosalyn updated constantly. Texts telling what they were doing. Pictures of various places and traps that had Gosalyn begging to get to go next time. There were plenty of calls, too. Gosalyn would scramble to his cell everytime Launchpad’s ringtone played. Sometimes, when Launchpad got home, Drake complained about how often he contracted them. Futilely; it never stopped Launchpad from doing it. (He's glad for that. All the texts make it so he doesn't have to worry as much and it kept Gosalyn from worrying as well.)

“We just got the other half of the map piece! We’re heading out for Wakka-Wakka in the morning,” Launchpad said, voice completely clear despite how high he must be. Drake could hear the plane engines in the background. It was amazing how Launchpad always had such great service. Gyro likely did something to his phone.

Drake hummed, the phone trapped between his ear and shoulder as he cut carrots for stew.

“Pops!” Gosalyn took the phone from him, put it to her own ear. “When are you gettin’ home? I’m not sure how much more of dad’s ‘cooking’ I can take.”

“What?!” Drake turned indignantly toward her.

He heard Launchpad chuckle over the phone. “Sorry, Gos. You’ll havta put up with it a little longer. Should only be a few more days,” Launchpad said.

‘Put up with’?! He didn't know what they were talking about. His food was great!

“Thank god,” Gosalyn sighed in mock relief.

Traitors. The both of them. Traitors with bad taste buds. Joke about his food being bad. He'd show them. Somehow. Drake cut the rest of the carrots angrily. At least, until the knife slipped and cut into the skin of his thumb. “Dammit,” he hissed under his breath as he dropped the knife.

“Dad!” Drake looked over at Gosalyn’s cry to see her staring at him.

“Gos!?” Drake heard from the phone, a quieter ‘McQuack watch the plane!’ in the background. “What happened??”

Drake shook his head. “I'm fine.” And he was, it hadn't cut that deep and he'd been hurt worse on patrols.

Gosalyn’s brows lowered, but she apparently trusted him. “Dad cut his thumb,” she told Launchpad.

There was a sigh on the other side. “Is he okay?”

“It's bleeding,” Gosalyn said as he walked over to the sink. He ran cold water over the cut.

“Gos, can you get me a bandaid?”

“Sure,” Gosalyn said. The phone poked into his shoulder. Drake took it and put it back to his ear.

“You okay?” Launchpad asked.

Drake scoffed. “I'm fine, stop worrying. It's not like you can do anything anyway.”

“I could come ba–”

“Launchpad.” Drake cut him off with an awkward laugh. His hand was shaky when he reached for a towel to stem the blood. Before Launchpad (and Gosalyn) he’d never had anyone worry about him. It was a weird feeling. Something that made his gut swoop in an odd way. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed it or hated it. Maybe a bit of both. “Scrooge would probably kill you and the kids would be disappointed. And you’d hate yourself for that. I'm fine, it's shallow, go have fun. I have to finish making dinner anyhow.”

There was a pause before Launchpad conceded. “Alright. Tell Gos I said goodnight and that I love her.”

“I will,” Drake promised.

“I love you, DW,” Launchpad said.

“Yeah, I love you too,” Drake said. The phone clicked and Launchpad was gone. He wrapped the towel tight around his finger for the time being. Then he picked up the knife to finish the carrots and add them to the stew. Gosalyn returned as he did.

“Here ya go.” She handed him a hello kitty bandage.

“Thanks, Gos,” Drake said and wrapped it around the tip of his thumb. “Launchpad said goodnight and he loves you.”

Gosalyn pulled a face, though he still saw a smile there. “He's so sappy.”

“He's your pops, he's allowed to be,” Drake said and put his hands on his hips. “We both are.” Gosalyn just rolled her eyes at him.

“Gee,” Drake said sarcastically, “I didn't know the teenage snark started right at thirteen.”

“I learned from the best, Dad,” Gosalyn smiled unapologetically with a shrug. Without a word she moved in next to him, grabbing a new knife to cut some tomatoes.

“At least you learned something from me,” Drake grumbled. Gosalyn gently elbowed him and Drake turned his head to see her profile. The smile hadn't really gone down. Somehow, she'd gotten older. Her red hair fell just over her shoulder in its long ponytail. Green eyes sparkled. The freckles she had in her dark feathers had doubled over the years. She was almost taller than him already. And it had all happened so quickly. Too quickly. Maybe Morgana could give him a potion or spell that would stop her from getting any older.

“What're you thinking about?” Gosalyn’s voice brought him from his thoughts. Her eyes were narrowed at him.

“Nothing,” Drake said.

“Riiiiiight,” Gosalyn said.

They cooked the rest of dinner together. Jokingly sniping the whole way.

(“Careful with the knife, Dad. I'll have to patrol without you.”

“Oh really? You think Megavolt would be willing to help you study for that math test you have tomorrow?”)

“I can't believe I let her patrol the museum alone!” Darkwing paced anxiously up and down the museum’s front steps. Launchpad only watched as he attempted to form a groove in the cement. Of course she hadn’t truly been alone. They each had a radio and Launchpad and he were right next door. That didn’t stop some dastardly criminal from stealing a rare gem and Gosalyn. Finally he collapsed with a huff. It’d been fifteen minutes since she’d disappeared. He hung his head, glanced over toward Launchpad through eyelashes and narrowed eyebrows. “How are you not worried?”

Launchpad chuckled. It sounded more strained than he'd ever heard it. He took a seat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Darkwing leaned into that comforting gesture. “‘Course I'm worried, DW. But worryin’ ain't gonna bring our girl back.”

“How can you be so calm?”

Launchpad didn't answer at first. He leaned back on his hands, eyes looking toward the sky. Darkwing almost thought it looked like he was searching for something. “Personality, I guess.” Was his eventual answer.

“I wish I had your personality,” Darkwing laughed lowly, something bitter and painful in the noise. In the corner of his eye Darkwing saw Launchpad look at him. He looked over as Launchpad sat back up.

“C’mon, DW. Let's get our little girl back.”

“Alright.” When Launchpad held out his hand, Darkwing took it. His partner pulled him up easily.

“So how are we going to find her?” Darkwing asked once they were in the Thunderquack. Because Launchpad insisted they head back to the tower for the jet.

“Uh,” Launchpad fiddled with a few buttons on the console. Some of his feathers pinked and Darkwing narrowed his eyes at his partner. The gps screen flickered before it came on. Darkwing frowned. The only times they really used it were the rare occasions SHUSH missions took them somewhere Launchpad didn't know. A flashing green dot appeared. It stayed still on the screen.

“Launchpad?” Darkwing questioned.

The jet started up. It taxied, slowly gaining speed until Launchpad pulled up on the yoke and they ascended. Launchpad still didn't answer his question. They started to move toward the dot.

“Launchpad,” Darkwing repeated, now a little annoyed. He didn't like being kept out of the loop. Especially when it had to do with Gosalyn’s potential safety.

Launchpad tapped a steady beat against the yoke. Finally he glanced over to Darkwing, flinching when he did so and quickly turning back to the sky. “I may've kinda made sure there were tracking devices in the radios.”

“You what?!” Darkwing barked and Launchpad flinched again.

“Sorry, DW, I jus wanted to make sure neither of ya got hurt or somethin’ where I couldn’t find ya,” Launchpad said quietly, eyes not leaving the skyline except to check the gps.

Darkwing studied his partner silently. Launchpad put trackers on them. Launchpad. He would expect the move from himself– there’d been a number of times where he’d almost done it– but not from Launchpad. Though maybe it made more sense that Launchpad would do it. The first mission they’d ever gone on together, he’d been blown up and would’ve likely died in the ocean had Launchpad not found him. Then there was that time Gosalyn completely disappeared when she’d snuck on a patrol with them and he’d almost had a panic attack before she found them. Their family had a habit of attracting danger. It was why they’d started teaching Gosalyn first aid last year. After she’d skinned half her leg on the road. “... alright.”

Launchpad turned toward him. “Alright?”

“Alright,” Darkwing nodded. “With our lives it was a smart move. I’m glad you did it.”

A happy, fond smile broke out on Launchpad’s face. He chuckled, and Darkwing could hear the relief in it. “No problemo, DW.”

It took longer than Darkwing would’ve liked to reach where Gosalyn was held. If Launchpad hadn’t insisted on parking the Thunderquack two blocks away it would’ve taken less time. But he had so they ran two minutes instead of taking thirty seconds to just crash into the warehouse. Ultimately, it was likely better. If the thief had known they were coming they could’ve done something with Gosalyn. Instead their arrival was a complete surprise. … Mostly a surprise. Darkwing had shown up like usual. Strong, bold words from a cloud of smoke. Launchpad was the surprise. He appeared from the shadows as Darkwing distracted the thief. Before the thief even realized it she was dangling, held up by the back of her coat. She kicked angrily and Darkwing heard one of them hit. But Launchpad didn’t drop her. Once she realized there was no getting out of his grip, her whole body slackened and she easily told them where she’d put Gosalyn. Before Launchpad put her down, Darkwing took the gem from her pocket. There was a protest, she tried to get it back and run, but Launchpad quickly grabbed her again. This time instead of putting her down, he carried her to one of the machines and tied her to it. Afterward, Darkwing and Launchpad’s eyes met. They nodded at each other and Darkwing went to the door first.

An arrow flew at them when he opened it. Darkwing barely had time to move. Air whizzed right by his ear. “Woah! It’s me, it’s me!” Darkwing had his arms up before she could loose a second arrow.

“Dad?” Gosalyn opened her other eye and blinked. “Dad!” Her body hit Darkwing’s with enough force to send him back into Launchpad, who easily caught them both. The hug only lasted a few seconds before Gosalyn pushed away. She brushed her hands down her costume. “What are you guys doing here? I had it taken care of.”

“Oh, did you?” Darkwing asked, pushing off of Launchpad as well. “Getting kidnapped by a criminal was having it ‘taken care of’?”

“I was working on it!” Gosalyn said. “I would’ve had her captured and the gem back if you would’ve just let me!”

“Let you–” Darkwing sputtered. “Quiverwing, you were kidnapped!”

“Yeah, so? You’ve gotten kidnapped before!”

“I’ve also been a hero longer!”

“So what, that makes you better at being kidnapped?!”

“It does!” Darkwing yelled. “I know how to get myself out of it!”

“Funny, cause the last few times Pops had to save you!”

“Well, yes,” Darkwing said. “But I had it taken care of.”

“So did I!” Gosalyn insisted.

“That’s different!”

“How?!” Gosalyn said.

“You’re thirteen, that’s how!” Darkwing said. “I was right, you’re too young for this!”

“Dad!” Gosalyn protested.

“No–”

Before Darkwing was prepared for it, his body was moving back. Gosalyn protested as she was moved at the same time. “Guys!” Between them stood Launchpad. Ever the mediator for their worse fights. Darkwing took a deep breath as he watched Gosalyn do the same. When he felt calmer, Launchpad’s arms were lowered.

“I didn’t start being a hero till I was eighteen,” Darkwing said. “I worry about you Gosalyn. When you disappeared… I didn’t know where you were or if you were hurt.”

Gosalyn sighed. “You don’t have to–”

“Of course I do!” Drake cut her off.

“Dad!” Gosalyn said. Her eyes were hard and he felt his beak snap shut. “You were alone when you started. But I’m not. I have you and Pops. I’m smart enough to call if I need you. She caught me off guard in the museum and just dragged me here, but she left me my weapons. I knew I could handle her. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Drake stepped around Launchpad to put his hands on Gosalyn’s shoulders. “You’re my daughter, Gos. Of course I’m gonna worry. It’s my job.”

“Eventually you’re gonna have to stop worrying so much,” Gosalyn said.

“Watch me.” Drake engulfed her in a hug.

“You’re gonna get more wrinkles,” Gosalyn said against his chest.

“Hey!” Drake protested, pulling back just enough to glare. It made Gosalyn laugh and he smiled. Launchpad joined them, arms wrapped fully around them both.

Darkwing coughed. “Alright.” Launchpad released them and he let go of Quiverwing, taking a few steps away. He took the gem from his pocket and threw it underhand to Quiverwing. She caught it easily. “Let's get this back to the museum. And Launchpad, could you grab us a certain crooked criminal?”

“Sure thing, DW.” Launchpad left the room to grab her.

“I imagine you'll want to take her in, Quiverwing?” Darkwing asked his younger partner.

“Hell yeah!” Quiverwing pumped a fist into the air excitedly.

“Language,” Drake admonished absently.

Quiverwing rolled her eyes as they followed Launchpad out of the room. “Daaad.”

“What?” Darkwing said, looking at Quiverwing while he walked. He puffed out his chest, pointing his finger upward as he didn't look away from her. “A superhero is ever vigilant, ever watchful for the public eye. They're a role model, upheld to the highest degree! They can't be seen with a potty mou–” At that moment, Darkwing slammed his foot into a metal contraption. It made him lose his balance and he went tumbling headfirst over it. Landing ungracefully on the other side. His foot throbbed and he grabbed it, curling slightly around it.

"“Fuuuuuck,” Darkwing groaned through clenched teeth. That had hurt. It took a few good seconds before it stopped throbbing so much. When he finally looked up he saw Quiverwing and she wasn't Quiverwing anymore but fully his daughter. Gosalyn smirked at him. Eyebrows raised smugly. “Not a word, young lady."

There’s giggling above him. It’s the tell-tale sounds of his daughter. Next is shushing from Launchpad. Drake smiled into the beach towel. An angel. His sidekick was an angel, making sure their daughter didn’t disturb his nap. This was one of the best parts of coming to the beach. Being able to take a nap, out in the bright sun. All while Gosalyn and Launchpad were kept distracted and out of trouble by the waves. With a content smile Drake let himself fade.

Later there was more giggling. Yet again right over top of him. Drake’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then he started to feel it. On his toes. Rubbing between his feathers. In his swimsuit. Sand. Sand, everywhere. It scratched and it itched and it felt monumentally uncomfortable.

Dead. His sidekick was dead, along with their daughter. Drake sprang up, making sand spray everywhere.

“I am not your sandcastle, you two!” Drake said indignantly. Sand clung to his backfeathers, thighs, and legs. He wasn’t actually planning on getting in the ocean. Now, they’d given him no choice. Not if he wanted the grimy substance off. Something they didn’t seem to understand. Not with the way sand caked their legs and arms.

“Aw, come on, Dad! We were almost finished!” Gosalyn protested between snorts.

“Yeah, DW,” Launchpad agreed with a smile. In his hand he held up a tiny flag Drake hadn’t seen in the bag earlier. They must’ve snuck it in after he’d checked it. And by they, he meant Gosalyn.

“No! You can't just build a sandcastle on me while I'm asleep!”

Gosalyn smiled at him, waving her shovel. “Well you're not asleep now.”

“No!” Drake repeated.

“C’mon, Dad.” Gosalyn broke out her secret weapon. The puppy dog eyes and extra pouted lip. To make it worse, as soon as Launchpad noticed what she was doing he joined in. Drake tried to remain strong. But it was no use against double puppy looks. He caved, flopping back onto his towel.

“Fine. But just this once, got it?”

“Alright Dad.” “Sure thing DW.”

Drake settled down as they pushed sand up against his middle and legs. It got even more sand on his towel, but there was plenty already from their earlier venture so he decided he’d just deal with the worst of it before they left. As long as Gosalyn didn’t bring a mountain of sand back home with her it’d be fine. For a while he drifted in and out. He was already pretty tired. The hot sun and insulating sand pulled at him. A lullaby to sleep he didn’t feel like fighting.

What felt like just a minute later, he woke up to a camera shutter. He opened his eyes to see Gosalyn with her camera pointed at him. He frowned and the shutter clicked again. “You look like Neptunia!” Gosalyn said with a smile.

He lifted up on his elbows so he could look down. No longer was he a sandcastle. Now they’d turned him into a mermaid. A tail of sand enveloped him, swirling into the beach. Drake gave them both a flat look. “Ha, ha, now go play in the ocean or something. I would like to take an actual nap. And don’t forget your sunscreen!”

“Daaaaad,” Gosalyn complained.

“You’re both redheads, you burn easier and I’m not going to hear complaining when you get sunburn because you didn’t listen to me,” Drake said, pointing at his daughter.

“Fine,” Gosalyn grumbled before she rummaged through their beach bag for the tube of spf 100. Both her and Launchpad rubbed it into their feathers under his watchful eye. When Drake felt satisfied they wouldn’t get burned he nodded and lied back down.

“And don’t forget to add more in a few hours,” Drake said with his eyes closed.

“Will do,” Launchpad said and Gosalyn groaned.

Their footsteps got further away as they went further in and Drake listened to them until he couldn’t hear the sand crunching anymore. Then he stood up and brushed the sand from his feathers the best he could. With that done he picked up the towel and shook it out. For now it was the best he could do. He’d prefer to get in the water later, closer to when they’d have to leave. Right now he let himself sleep with the sound of Gosalyn and Launchpad’s laughter in the background.

“Dad,” Gosalyn’s voice drifted on a wave of consciousness. He grumbled and shifted, not wanting to get up. Sleep still pulled at his bones and he was willing to follow it. His daughter was not. With an annoyed sound she shook his shoulder. That had him up in milliseconds. Pain flared like fire along his skin where she’d touched.

“Don’t do that,” Drake snapped as the pain waned. Though it stayed just on the surface; red heat feeling like it radiated through his feathers.

“Dad?” Gosalyn questioned worriedly.

“He’s lookin’ a little red, Gos,” Launchpad said.

“No I’m not,” Drake said. Gosalyn looked at him disbelievingly. Even if he was red it wasn’t that bad. Really, he barely felt it. The only reason it’d seemed to hurt so much was because Gosalyn surprised him.

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Gosayn said. It was dismissive and clear she didn’t believe him, but Drake took it.

The sunburn didn't truly show up for another hour, sometime after they got back home. It had been getting steadily worse before then. But it's taken an hour for Drake to actually sneak away and check the bathroom mirror. He stripped off his shirt and turned to check his back. His back was absolutely glowing. With some hesitation he poked a finger against it. Pain rippled through him and he took a sharp breath through his teeth to prevent a scream. There was so much sunburn even his feathers appeared to be tinged red. The only bright side was he'd fallen asleep on his stomach, so the only burn was on his back and shoulders. Though that was barely a bright side. It still stung like a bitch.

“Drake?” A knock sounded on the door and before Drake could say anything, the door opened. “Woah.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drake struggled back into his shirt. Launchpad was looking at his heated skin worriedly. That wasn't something he needed. He winced hard as the fabric brushed awkwardly against his feathers and the skin at his shoulder bunched.

“DW, wait,” Launchpad put his hands on Drake’s and gently removed the shirt from his hold.

“Launchpad–” Drake protested but was cut off when he felt Launchpad’s shirt drop over his head. The t-shirt drifted down, hanging low near his ankles. It was immediately clear the shirt was about three sizes too big for him. Which was perfect for his sunburn.

“... Thanks,” Drake said. Suddenly he felt extremely awkward. There was no real reason for it. Launchpad’s shirt was large and comfortable and didn't rub against his feathers. It was perfectly pragmatic. But Launchpad’s expression had suddenly gone a little weird and Drake’s face felt hot in a way he knew had nothing to do with the sunburn. How could it? His face hadn't burned. Thankfully. Wearing a mask with sunburn would’ve been hell.

He cleared his throat. “Can you help me with some aloe?” As much as he didn't want to need to ask for help, he knew there was no way he'd reach all the sunburn. Heck, he likely wouldn't reach half of it. Not by himself.

“Sure thing, DW,” Launchpad said, looking a bit like he'd been snapped out of a trance.

They walked out of the bathroom together, Drake behind Launchpad. Some traitorous part of his brain decided then was a good time to remind him, Launchpad was now shirtless. This wasn't the first time he'd ever seen Launchpad shirtless. Nor was it the third or fifth. Most of the time during summer Launchpad slept shirtless. But something about it now, with him being shirtless because he’d wanted to make Drake more comfortable, made it feel so much different. Like there was a new light that made Launchpad’s shirtless form more beautiful than Drake already found it. His hands wrapped around the bottom of Launchpad’s faded Ducky Momo shirt and his thumbs rubbed against the soft, worn gray material of the hem.

It was comfortable past the way it settled lightly on his sunburn, barely pressing against the feathers like an invisible shield kept it from getting too close. The knowledge he was wearing Launchpad’s clothes was comfortable. Something about knowing it was that big lug’s was comfortable. All of it was just comfortable. That was the most familiar feeling he had around Launchpad, comfort. In a way that felt like home.

Gosalyn gave him that feeling too, ever since he’d adopted her and gained this little family. It was different from when he was alone. Louder and nicer. It was incredibly different from his first ‘family’. Warmer.

“Dad!” Drake turned around to see Gosalyn ogling at him. She must've seen his neck. That was confirmed when she ducked behind him and he felt the collar being pulled down. Heat seared through him as fabric rubbed against raw feathers. “You look like you got attacked by a preschooler with a marker!”

Drake groaned as he wrestled himself from her grasp. “I don't understand how. I brought plenty of sunscreen.”

“Gee, DW. I guess ya spent so much time worryin’ about us you completely forgot to put on your own sunscreen,” Launchpad said.

“I was not worried,” Drake said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Dad I think I had like three coats of sunscreen in my hair,” Gosalyn said.

“Redheads burn very easily!” Drake defended. “Now if you don't mind I’m going to put some aloe on.” He brushed past Launchpad and into their room to escape their daughter’s prying eyes. Not long after he sat on the bed, Launchpad joined him in the room.

That night saw Drake sitting on the edge of the bed as Launchpad put more aloe on his back. The blue gel was cold, chilling his skin as Launchpad carefully scrubbed it past his feathers. He sucked in air through his teeth and Launchpad apologized quietly. Gosalyn had gone to bed a few minutes ago. For once she was actually tired, a day of swimming, playing in the sand, and roller skating down the boardwalk solidly exhausting her. Once Launchpad was done Drake got to his feet and went over to search Launchpad’s drawer. He shoved shirts aside in his search for one that was plain and dark enough to service him in the night.

“What are you doing?” Launchpad questioned.

“I am looking for a shirt,” Drake answered without looking back.

“DW, should you really go on patrol like that? We can miss one more patrol,” Launchpad said and he scoffed.

“The villains would really like that. Of course I can't miss patrol! A hero is ever vigilant! A tiny sunburn won't slow me down!”

Launchpad gently touched his shoulder. “Yeowch!” Drake jumped a foot in the air, pain crisscrossing along his skin. Once it subsided he glared at Launchpad. The sunburn still hurt. It still hurt a lot.

“Sorry, DW.” Launchpad looked apologetic, but he also looked worried. Drake knew he'd likely felt his heated skin through the soft fabric.

“I'm going whether you come with or not.” Drake went back to rummaging through Launchpad’s drawer, finally pulling out a black long sleeve shirt from the very bottom that he hadn't even known Launchpad owned. Proud of his find, he held it up. “I'll just wear this.”

Something odd flickered across Launchpad’s face. But he'd gotten odd looks from the other duck since Launchpad put his shirt on him earlier. So it was simple to just ignore it as another of those. He pulled the shirt on and began to roll up the sleeves. Unrolled, the sleeves hung down at least an inch past his hands. Hopefully the rolls wouldn't slip, he's not sure how well he could fight St. Canard’s criminal underbelly with sleeves that long. The one bunched oddly as he worked on it and he grumbled and undid it so he could try again. Before he could Launchpad was there. Folding the sleeve neatly over itself a handful of times.

Drake looked up at him. “Why are you helping me? You don't want me to go out there.”

“I don't,” Launchpad agreed. He did the other sleeve silently. After he finished he took Drake’s hands in his own to check his handiwork. Then he looked up at Drake. Drake’s breath caught at the serious look there. “But I’m not gonna let you go it alone, Drake.”

It was a promise. One that was heavy. Too heavy for Drake to breath under it. He felt like he was drowning. It sounded strangely like a wedding vow. Solemn and sober and honest. Heart wrenchingly so. “You mean Darkwing?” He choked on his own attempt to lessen the sudden tension.

“I mean both,” Launchpad smiled softly and Drake gasped in a breath like he'd suddenly broke surface. “Let's get dangerous,” his partner said with a twinkle in his eye like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just flood the room with heavy tension. Leaving Drake floundering. Launchpad squeezed his hands once before he let go. His motto matched with the sudden absence of Launchpad’s hands– after he’d squeezed them like the last preserver on the Titanic, like it was Launchpad who'd been drowning– helped Darkwing come back to himself a little quicker.

“Let's.” A corner of his beak curled up into a smirk.

Before today, he'd never actually been thankful that the Ratcatcher didn’t have a seat back. The wind made Launchpad’s larger shirt billow out slightly behind him. It hadn’t occurred to him that even past the sleeves the largeness of the shirt might make it more difficult to move. He'd never fought in anything bigger than his own clothes. This shirt was practically a dress on him. Briefly he wished he had the forethought to strap a belt of some kind around his waist. Then he remembered the burn. With the state of his back a belt probably would've been more hindrance than the large shirt.

Movement came from the building ahead of them. The empty building. Darkwing stopped the motorcycle on the sidewalk. “Someone sinister’s sneaking around in that shop.” He jumped to the ground, valiantly ignoring the flash of pain the movement caused with just a hiss through his teeth. As well as ignoring the worried look Launchpad gave him. He ran to the brick of the shop, next to a large, broken display window. Big, cursive letters were painted on the door, alternating between brown, pink, and white. ‘NeoBotany’.

With a singular look back to ensure Launchpad was following– he was, right behind him and soaked in shadow– Darkwing stepped carefully into the building, being ware of the broken glass. “Alright Bushie,” Darkwing started with the gas gun already pointed and loaded with plantspray.

“Darkwing?” A voice asked in response. A voice not Bushroot.

Darkwing stopped short. “Megavolt?! What are you doing here? Isn't this a bit out of your usual domain?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Dorkwing,” Megavolt said.

“Of course I'm here!” Darkwing said with an exasperated sigh. “I'm the hero, I'm supposed to be here to stop the likes of you! But isn't this normally Bushroot’s shtick?”

“Yeah, well I’m getting something for him,” Megavolt bit back, crossing his arms over his chest. Darkwing mirrored him. And immediately winced as his skin pulled. The villain gave him an odd look. “Are you sure you should be doing this tonight?”

Darkwing could feel the eyes on his back, burning into it like the sun had earlier. “Can it, LP,” Darkwing mumbled. To Megavolt, “And let you run free? Of course I should be doing this! Now spill, why are you here?”

Megavolt rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to choose a flower.”

“Roses are good,” Launchpad said and Darkwing turned to glare at him. Damn it, LP! Don’t give the villains ideas! His partner gave an apologetic shrug with a smile that said he wasn’t really that sorry. The older duck liked to give advice when he could. Even to the villains. It was his compassionate heart and loath as Darkwing was to admit it, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one of the things that drew him to the man. Despite his glare, Launchpad added. “Lilies, too.”

“Thanks, LP!” Megavolt said and he truly seemed like he appreciated it.

“What are you doing stealing flowers, anyhow? Couldn’t you just buy them,” Darkwing asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Of course not, Dipwing! As you keep reminding me, I’m a villain.”

Darkwing groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. Then winced in pain and immediately clenched his fist at his side instead. “Alright.”

Darkwing already had his jacket and mask off when he got in the house, but he still had his turtleneck on. With a wrinkle of his beak he peeled the material slightly away from his feathers. It reeked. Like burnt cabbage, moldy cheese, and something rottingly floral. Plus there was something wet and clinging. Despite the fact he'd made the plunge at least two hours ago. He held back a retch.

Earlier the criminal he was chasing– a petty thief, why they tried to escape through a roof, he didn't know– took a sharp turn he hadn't had time to follow. Instead he plummeted right off the roof into a dumpster. A full dumpster. Of course he'd gotten the criminal. But right now, covered in trash sludge, it felt more like a consolation prize than a victory.

The front door opened, but the person who opened it didn't come in right away. Darkwing paused to watch Launchpad shake… something out of his hair. His partner came in and grimaced almost immediately. A tight smile formed on his beak. “I know,” Darkwing said.

“What happened?” Launchpad asked. Just as he was about to answer, Darkwing caught a good look at him. His red locks were streaked with white–that must've been what he'd shook out, or tried to–, there was a surface wound on his cheek that'd been cleaned, and gray streaked the feathers on his arms and shirt. His jacket was absent.

“What happened to you?” Darkwing asked instead.

Launchpad shrugged nonchalantly. “Dew set off a trap.” When Darkwing gaped, he gave a tired smile. “No one was injured.”

“You have a scratch along your cheek!”

“No one was injured badly,” Launchpad amended. “The kids are all okay. None of them were hit.”

‘Yeah, but what about you?’ Darkwing thought, but knew better than to ask. Whenever he did Launchpad would just brush it off. For his partner, the kids’ safety was more important. It was admirable. It was also highly irritating.

“Alright,” Darkwing said instead. “I fell in a dumpster.”

“You fell in a dumpster?” Launchpad asked.

“Yes, yes,” Darkwing sighed and held his arms out away from his body. “Get it out, I know I smell like rotting garbage. Heck, I probably look like it. I know I feel like it.” The words grew lower, more mumbled, as he went on.

“Nah,” Launchpad said with an amused smile and chuckle, though his beak was still slightly scrunched from the smell. It didn't stop him from coming closer. Or from him pulling Darkwing into his arms. “Smell like a buncha daisies and look just as handsome as ever.”

Darkwing huffed a laugh even as his cheeks went red. “Har har. Now let me go so we can take a shower.” Launchpad’s arms loosened and Darkwing wiggled out of his grip.

“‘We’?” Launchpad repeated. Darkwing looked up to see his eyes were wide. It took a minute for it to register why.

Oh. He'd said ‘we’ without thinking. Implying… Well. There was nothing wrong with that. It'd be fine, they were friends. It wasn't even the first time they'd ever seen each other naked. Probably wouldn't be the last with the injuries they garnered. And Launchpad already knew all his secrets, seen the scars. There wasn't anything to hide from his partner. Decisively, he nodded. “Yes. We.”

“Like…” Launchpad trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

“Yes, LP,” Darkwing sighed. “Together. It's not like the tub’s not big enough.”

“O-kay,” Launchpad said haltingly, like it was something to worry about.

When Darkwing headed for the stairs he heard Launchpad say ‘Alright’ to himself with more conviction. It wasn't until he was about halfway up that he heard footsteps behind him, though.

“Are ya sure, Drake?” Launchpad asked again as they undressed– Launchpad slower than him, but he had more clothes and he wanted the sweater off– and Drake rolled his eyes. “Yes, I'm sure. Not only will it save time it'll save money too. Now will you get in so I can get this trash stench off me. I can feel garbage gunk in my feathers and it's very uncomfortable.” So much so that it currently outweighed any anxiety he may have felt sharing a shower with the man he had a crush on. Again, they'd seen each other naked plenty of times before. This should be no different.

It is. Of course it is, those other times they weren't standing close together inside a porcelain prison with warm water falling upon them like heavy rain.

Drake is in front of Launchpad. It's practical, Launchpad is huge and if he was standing behind him the water would never touch him, but it's also even more calculated. As long as he was in front he didn't have to look back or acknowledge the warmth behind him. Not that it mattered. They were barely under the spray a few minutes before Launchpad drew his attention.

“Shit,” Launchpad hissed quietly through his teeth. LP didn't usually curse.

“LP?” Drake questioned, worried as he carefully turned around.

“It's nothing, sorry,” Launchpad replied immediately but with the shirt gone it was too late. Drake noticed the wound before Launchpad turned away. The dark t-shirt had done a good job of hiding it but with it gone the dried blood at his shoulder was visible. It was on the same side the cut on his cheek was, but it was deeper and very obviously hadn't been patched up like the former. Which meant Launchpad had hid it from Scrooge. And lied to Drake, ‘no one was injured badly’ his foot. He shuffled closer to him with the rag.

“LP,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth. Gently he took the rag to his partner’s shoulder. “Don't hide this shit. Not from me,” Drake scolded gently. The first touch had Launchpad tensing but he relaxed quickly.

“Sorry,” Launchpad apologized again, but this one was sincere instead of dismissive. Drake examined him carefully now. If he’d hidden this, there might be other injuries.

Thankfully, other than a purpling bruise all down his side that reached like fingers to his back and luckily only bruised his ribs, Launchpad had no other injuries. “So what really caused this?” Drake asked.

“The trap released part of the ceiling above us,” Launchpad said with a shrug like it didn't matter, but his careful tone said he knew it would to Drake. “Lew and Webby were able to get out of the way and Mr. McD was further ahead, but Dew and Hue…”

“You shielded them,” Drake supplied.

“Yeah,” Launchpad said.

Drake sighed. Rather annoyingly, a fond smile twitched at the corner of his beak. He wanted to be annoyed at Launchpad. He really, really wanted to be. But the truth was that that desire, that need to help others first and care about himself absolutely last that Launchpad has, was one of the things Drake loved most about him. It was probably one of the things he fell in love with first. “At least the kids are alright.”

“Yep!” Launchpad said, and all it took was a bright smile for him to know Launchpad knew he wasn't really annoyed. “Not even a scratch!”

“Except now I have to patch you up. Again,” Drake huffed halfheartedly because he had to show that he was annoyed, because despite how proud he was that LP kept the kids safe, he still returned to him injured and the only person here who should be getting injured was him as he's the superhero, thank you very much. A true spark of annoyance went through him. “I feel like a housewife,” he mumbled, words not really meant to be heard by anyone else. But in the close quarters of the bathtub it was impossible for them to go unheard.

“I'm sure Mr. McD would hire you if you want to take on a job!”

“Ha!” Drake let out a bark of laughter that he immediately felt guilty for, their daughter asleep in a room close by. Hopefully Gosalyn hadn't heard him. Quieter, he said, “And work for that money grubbing geezer? No way!” After a pause, “Hey, wait a minute! Watching over St. Canard is a full time job, buster.” Drake stabbed a finger into Launchpad’s chest. His partner smiled at him and took his hand, lifting it to his beak and kissing the palm. Suddenly, Drake remembered just how naked they both were. It was an odd realization. They'd gotten in together.

“And you’re amazing at it.” Blush spread, Launchpad looking right at him. It felt like he was looking through him. The second his partner released his hand, Drake turned on his heel (almost slipping in the tub; Launchpad steadied him before he could fall out) and resolved not to look back until they were both dried and dressed.

“Alright, Launchpad you're in charge of the map. Do you remember the plan?”

“Yessir, DW!” Launchpad said with a smile that felt just a little too cheeky. But Drake let it slide.

“Aw, c'mon, dad,” Gosalyn groaned. “Do we reaaaally need to have a plan for the amusement park? Doesn't that take all the fun out of it?”

“No!” Drake answered from inside the trunk of the car, making sure he had everything they needed in his bag. “If we have a plan we can assure—

“We get the most amount of fun possible for our buck,” both Gosalyn and Launchpad chorused with him.

“Glad to know you're listening to me,” Drake grumbled into the bag.

“What was that?” Gosalyn asked and Drake looked away from the bag to see his daughter giving him a smirk she definitely didn't learn from him. He pointed at her.

“Watch it.”

Gosalyn raised her hands defensively, still smirking. Drake narrowed his eyes.

“So is that everything?” Launchpad asked as he took the bag from Drake, effectively breaking Gosalyn and Drake’s focus before it became a staring contest.

“Yes,” Drake said.

“And did you remember to wear your sunscreen, Dad?” Gosalyn teased. This time Drake would not rise to the bait. Especially from some teenager. He stuck his beak in the air.

“Of course I did. And there's extra in the bag so everyone can reapply when the alarm on my phone goes off,” Drake said and ignored it when Gosalyn groaned. “No one is getting sunburn this time. Not on my watch.” Because he cared about his family and one terrible sunburn was enough for him, thank you very much. It was practically the worst villain he ever had to tackle.

“If you say so,” Gosalyn said.

They trekked to the front gate and the ticket counter, which they skipped because Drake was smart and already had tickets. There would be no family haggling this time at the expense of the employee who ran it. Instead he metaphorically let Launchpad and Gosalyn run wild. Metaphorically because they would not be leaving his sight except to go on rides, like the roller coasters Gosalyn loved, which were more deathtrap than roller coaster.

The second they were further inside, Gosalyn and Launchpad started to look around like they'd never been here before despite them coming here every year since becoming a family. Nothing ever changed here, either. Everything was still in the same place it always was. He rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. Eventually, Gosalyn and Launchpad headed for the ride they always started with: a roller coaster with three loops that was so tall it felt like a violation. Drake practically got dizzy just staring at it. He gladly took a seat on the nearby bench, staying with their things. Somebirdie needed to watch it, after all.

The next hour or two went like this– Gosalyn and Launchpad went on rides while Drake sat with their stuff and watched. He may’ve also dozed a bit, arms crossed in front of his chest and head hanging in a way which would definitely give him a crick in his neck. Gosalyn laughed at him for it more than once. In his defense, he usually slept till noon.

“Alright, dad. It’s your turn,” Gosalyn declared and Drake looked up.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting me on one of those death traps of yours,” Drake said. Gosalyn grinned.

“Oh yes I am.” Gosalyn put her hands on her hips. Once more, Drake was very suddenly reminded of his daughter’s height. To think, she used to come up to his knees. Now she was taller than him. “It’s the rules. Everyone goes on at least one coaster.”

Drake sighed, because he couldn’t fight his own rule with a clean conscience. Not if he wanted her to listen to him, at least. “Fine, fine. But just one. I’d like to keep my stomach where it is.”

Gosalyn looked at him like his words were a challenge and very suddenly Drake realized Launchpad and her hadn’t gone on one of Gosalyn’s favourite coasters, as well as one of the main reasons this park has always been her favourite. The monster Behemoth. The actual tallest roller coaster here.

“Oh no. Oh no no no,” Drake said, his finger waving in the air.

“Oh yes,” Gosalyn chirped, her hand suddenly in his. She dragged him to the line for the coaster, Launchpad behind them. This time Launchpad was the one who stayed on the bench with their things. And Drake went on the ride. The entire time they waited, Gosalyn bounced with excitement like she was ten again and Drake fought between the warmth and fondness of seeing his daughter so excited and the absolute dread of what was coming. He hated rollercoasters. They were deathtraps with just enough safety measures to pass inspection, built for cheap thrills for people who don’t spend their evenings doing something more respectable like stopping crime. Not that Drake needed civilians to stop crime. It wasn’t exactly the safest profession. Hence his distaste for rollercoasters. If he wanted to feel unsafe, he’d give Launchpad the keys to the Ratcatcher. Actually, if he wanted to feel unsafe he’d give them to Megavolt.

By the time they got off the roller coaster, Drake didn't remember anything but Gosalyn with her hands in the air before he closed his eyes. He's lucky he didn't lose a feather. "I'm getting too old for this."

"What do you mean?" Gosalyn snorted. "Pops is older than you and he's fine."

"Pops is from a family of stunt pilots," Drake pointed out as he absently took the bags back from Launchpad. As long as he had them, he couldn't be dragged on anymore dangerous rides.

"And you regularly fly with him," Gosalyn said as she rolled her eyes, head tilted down slightly to look at him which is even more insulting than the eye roll.

"I trust him. Who knows what safety regulations have been ignored here?" Drake said darkly, though he did actually trust the rides here. If he didn't, there was no way Gosalyn would be going on them. Or Launchpad, for that matter. His partner getting injured was the last thing he needed.

"Whatever you say, Dad," Gosalyn sighed. But Launchpad looked touched, at least.

Of course, the rides could only go on so long. Finally, they hit where Drake really shone. The games. He rolled up his sleeves and handed the bag back to Launchpad.

"Watch how it's done, Gosalyn," Drake said as he walked up to a game where you threw baseballs at a pyramid of milk bottles. He took out a five dollar bill and set it down. "Three balls, though I'll only need one."

The dog running the game set down three baseballs. Drake picked one up, palming it in his hand. Testing the weight. He squared his shoulders, shifted his feet to be shoulder width apart, and focused on the very middle of the bottom row. As he breathed in, he drew his arm back. Then he shifted his weight forward as he threw the ball.

It hit the edge of the shelf the milk bottles were on with enough force to rattle the top bottle, but none fall.

"Only one ball, huh?"

"Well you have to fail a few times to make the success more exciting," Drake says with a strained laugh, throwing the second ball into the air and catching it a few times. "I'll get this one easy-peasy."

This ball hits the left pole keeping the stand up, bouncing off it and disappearing behind them. An angry shout rises from around the same area and Drake's shoulders raise. He laughs again, more strained than the first. "All in plan."

The third ball he picks up he mentally curses. It will not make a fool of him. He narrows his eyes, looking at the milk bottles. He licks his finger and checks the wind. Then he throws the last ball. It flies forward, hits the back wall, and falls to the ground.

"Step aside, time for a master to show you how it works." Gosalyn steps forward, pushing up the sleeves of her short sleeve tshirt. She turns to Drake who grumbles but gives the man another five dollars. Like Drake, Gosalyn picks it up, taking a moment to gauge the weight of it in her hand. This time when the first ball is thrown, it hits right in the middle of the milk bottle pyramid and all six of them fall to the ground. Drake grumbles, pretending to be annoyed rather than proud.

"Alright, what do ya want?" The dog straightens back up from his lean against the wall, going over to the section with the large prizes. He barely reaches it before Gosalyn is pointing.

"No, no, no," Drake is already protesting before the dog can pull it off the shelf. He pauses, hands on what must be three gallons of slime, to look at Drake with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Gosalyn chants.

"Aren't you a little old to be playing with slime?" Drake says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aren't you a little old for your career choices?" Gosalyn mimics him with a smile. Drake narrows his eyes. The slime is gotten and tucked into the bag LP is carrying.

The games were more fun for Drake than the rides. The games are where he could really make his mark. Where he could show who he really is. Not just a superhero, not just a dad. A sharpshooter.

"Dammit!"

A sharpshooter who maybe, sometimes, when he wasn't in the mask, swore and lost his cool. All of these games were rigged, it's the only solution. The only reason he kept losing. If they weren't, he'd win at every single game he went up to because he's Darkwing Duck. If he could fight crime every night and manage to get Gosalyn to highschool, he could shoot a shooting target in a galley made for preschoolers standing on stools.

"Ya almost got it that time, DW!" Launchpad said and Darkwing narrowed his eyes at the targets. His partner's right, he did almost get it.

"Give me another." He put another few dollars on the counter. The girl behind it, a tall dog with too much lipstick and bubblegum, shrugged and hit the button that sets the minute timer on the fake gun. The targets start to move again and Darkwing lines up his shot.

A minute passed, then two more, and he was going to either break the gun or stop being a hero. He couldn't really be so bad that a mere rigged game beats him! He shot villains all the time. Granted, it was mostly with a smoke gun that has a different area of distribution. But still. He glared at the targets.

"Dad! We need that for lunch!” Gosalyn said and Drake paused and blinked, but continued to count bills.

"No we don't, Launchpad made us lunch.”

"Uh… actually, DW…” Launchpad sounded nervous. Drake stopped.

"Launchpad,” Drake drew the name out as he turned to his partner. “I thought I asked you to make lunch so we wouldn't have to spend an exorbitant amount of money on the food here.”

"I forgot. I'm sorry.” Launchpad frowned at him, mouth quirked. Drake stared. There might have been some screaming in his head.

-”It's fine. Fully fine. Absolutely amazingly a-okay.”

“You sure, Drake? You don't usually aliterate like that unless you're upset..."

Drake glowered at Launchpad. How dare he know how he alliterated in different moods.

"So what, we'll have to buy a few overpriced corn dogs and soda. It's the experience!" Gosalyn said.

"Experience smearience," Drake muttered. There went the money he'd wanted to save. At least Launchpad and Gosalyn won a few games, he guessed. And they didn't mean any more when LP got stuffed animals for both Drake and Gosalyn, along with that tub of slime and a few other odds and ends. He sighed and tucked the money away once more. "Fine, to the overpriced corn dogs and soda."

"And ice cream!" Gosalyn added and he looked at her.

"You don't need ice cream," Drake said.

"But daaaaaad," Gosalyn drew the word out long as she made her eyes big. "Ice cream!" Launchpad mirrored her, though neither of them actually looked at the other.

"Yeah, DW, ice cream!"

Drake sighed heavily through his nostrils. "Fine. But only small bowls."

"Yay!" A twin cheer. Drake rolled his eyes, the start of a smile hidden behind his hand. Launchpad looked back at him while Gosalyn led the way to concessions and smiled back.

"Wait, but don't you have to patrol?" Gosalyn asked much later, when the day started to fall so the night could rise. There was supposed to be fireworks and Drake knew his family would want to see them. It seemed a shame to go home and miss them, when they wouldn't be able to see the fireworks through the lights of St. Canard and the most they usually saw were explosions from experiments gone wrong when Bushroot got Megavolt to help in an experiment.

"I can wait a few hours to see the lights with my daughter and partner," Drake said, a hand on Gosalyn's back. Honestly, it was like they thought protecting St. Canard is all he did.

"Aw, thanks, DW." Launchpad smiled brightly and tucked both of them into his sides, his arms around their shoulders. At least Launchpad was still bigger than Gosalyn. He smiled as Gosalyn protested– moving to sit on Launchpad's shoulders instead for a better view– and looked up to wait for the fireworks to begin.

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