An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Saw
Pairing: Mark Hoffman / Peter Strahm
Word Count: 7,660
Summary:
You're disgusting, you're a horrible person. You're not worthy of any love. The one friend you had was killed, and the only person who will pay you any attention is a man who killed her.
Strahm looks at himself in the mirror, grey hairs, days-old stubble he has refused to shave and bags under his eyes that are so dark they’re a huge contrast to his pale complexion.
don't leave me on my own(i can't do this all alone)
When Launchpad starts to feel sick on patrol, Drake cuts the night short to take him home. As his fever rises, Launchpad begins to worry—every relationship before this has ended with him feeling forgotten, no matter how much he loved them. Does Drake feel the same, or will he be too much to love again, and end up all alone?
Launchpad stifles a sniffle as he looks out over the city with Darkwing. He pulls up the fluffy collar on his jacket, and beside him, his partner is bundled up in his thick, warm winter costume. They’ve already stopped a would-be supervillain from attacking Mayor Owlson’s offices, and two potential burglars, even with Gosalyn off at the manor for a sleepover. A productive patrol, and plans later to head home and watch Darkwing together until dawn. Everything’s going great.
Well, mostly great, anyway.
There’s a chill in the wind this week, light snowflakes swirling under the streetlights. The snow isn’t sticking quite yet, but the cold is clinging to the streets, and Launchpad keeps finding himself wishing he’d brought tissues. He was feeling fine back in Duckburg, but the wind is biting at his cheeks and he’s starting to feel shaky.
At his side, Drake is looking down at the city, brow furrowed with focus. Launchpad hesitates—his partner wouldn’t mind, but he wants to savor this moment. Spending time together and fighting crime are two of his favorite things, and he gets to do them with his favorite person. Besides, what kind of sidekick would he be if he gave up over some sniffles and sneezes? He’ll be fine for a little while longer.
“What are ya thinkin’, Deedubya?” He turns his attention to his partner instead.
“Hm? Oh,” DW looks up, shaking his head. “Nothing really. Just that it’s been quiet since we stopped that last guy.”
LP grins. “Maybe they heard Darkwing’s out tonight and got scared.”
“Maybe, huh?” His mask wrinkles as he smiles back, those beautiful dark eyes sparkling. “They know they’re no match for us!”
The smile clings to LP’s beak even as they descend from the rooftops back to the Ratcatcher. Us… he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that. To the unconditional love Drake keeps showing him, or to being partners both on patrol and off. It makes his heart feel warm inside his chest, chasing off the chill for a while.
They drive around the block, then towards downtown. St Canard is quiet, still as the snow that’s starting to stick. The few people who are out are hurrying home, and the city’s criminals are nowhere to be found. Whether it’s the weather or the late hour, it seems nobody wants to be out right now.
They pull up to a red light, and LP glances around at the empty streets. All the cars he can see are parked and silent as a wintery wonderland begins to grow around them. The snow is clinging to the sidewalks, piling up around the parking spaces as a white blanket begins to form. Darkwing pauses, watching as a city truck passes, slinging salt across the pavement.
“What a dull night,” he remarks, turning to LP. “Maybe we should—”
“Huh?” Launchpad looks back at his partner as he pauses. “What’s the matter, Deedubya?”
“You don’t look so good,” Drake replies, reaching out to brush LP’s bangs aside and rest his hand on his partner’s forehead. “Your cheeks are all pink. I think you’ve got a fever.”
Drake’s hand moves from his forehead to caress his cheek, and for a moment, LP’s heart races. But then, simultaneously realizing they’re still sitting in the road, they pull apart, and Drake begins to drive again. “Let’s head home, and I’ll make us something warm to eat.”
“That sounds good,” LP’s head is spinning, and he’s not sure if it’s the cold or his lovestruck heart that’s causing it. “Thanks, Deedubya.”
“Of course, LP,” he replies softly, and though he’s focused on the road, Launchpad can see a soft pink blush peeking out from under his mask. “Then maybe we’ll watch some Darkwing and sit together on the couch for a while?”
“Yeah, that—” LP sneezes, head still swirling. “That would be nice.”
The drive home is quiet, the streets still except for the softly falling snow. Launchpad finds himself fighting off sleep before they reach the bridge, the dizziness turning to drowsiness. Yeah, maybe he is sick. Maybe… maybe he’ll lean against Drake’s shoulder for a second, and he’ll… feel a little better….
When he wakes, it’s to a soft kiss on the forehead. His eyes slowly focus on the monitor glowing across the room and Drake’s merch collection spread out around them. It’s much warmer now, and LP’s suddenly aware that his partner was right—his feathers feel like fire, a fever burning him up inside—and all he can think for a moment is that he wants to go to bed.
“C’mon, bud,” Drake encourages, offering a hand to help him out of the sidecar. “You just lay down on the couch, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Are—are you sure?” Launchpad covers his mouth as he coughs. “I don’t wanna make you—”
“I’ve got you,” he promises, letting LP lean on him as they cross the room. “Just let me take care of you for a while, okay?”
“Thanks,” his steps are shaky, but Drake helps him balance until he can collapse on the couch. “My hero.”
Drake laughs, and even through the rising fever and hazy head, LP feels warm inside again. Drake is so kind, so caring, so selfless… he’s everything Launchpad’s always wanted to be. Everything Launchpad’s always wanted in a partner but never quite found.
He finds love wherever he goes, whether that’s flying halfway across the globe, or just driving to downtown Duckburg. But none of his exes have ever made him feel like they understand him—not like Drake does. Drake will listen to his Darkwing theories, and share his own. He never expects Launchpad to be any sharper than he is, never asks him to try being tougher or smarter. He loves Launchpad unconditionally, just as he is.
And LP has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that.
He loves Drake the same, of course. Loves to listen while Drake goes on and on with dramatic speeches, and loves to work on elaborate projects that’ll help on patrol. No one else would work with him on a working replica of the Thunderquack. It’s just… strange. How’s he supposed to get used to someone who loves him just for being himself when he’s spent his life hiding who he is, all in the name of love?
How can Drake possibly love all of him? All his loud, excited outbursts, forgetting most people know cues and unwritten rules? How can Drake love him despite all the crashes, real and figurative? What does Drake see in him that nobody else has?
Everybody else… left him and moved on. It was always an… “it’s not me, it’s you” or “you’ll find somebody else” or… or “we can still be friends” even though things would never be the same…. And Launchpad worries sometimes that Drake will… drift away, just like they did… worries that he’ll be left behind, and Drake will just… stop caring about him….
“Launchpad, baby,” Drake’s soft voice pulls him from sleep. “Wake up for a minute.”
“Huh?” LP startles. When did he fall asleep?
“I brought you some cold medicine and Gatorade,” Drake explains, helping him sit up. “I thought a drink would help.”
“Yeah,” Launchpad takes the medicine without thinking, then chugs half the blue bottle. His throat was so dry, and he didn’t even realize it. “Thanks. That feels better.”
“You’re welcome,” Drake kisses his forehead. “You still have a fever. Do you wanna keep resting for a while, and we’ll have dinner when it’s ready?”
LP takes a deep breath. The tower smells like fresh vegetables and savory broth, reminding him of wintery days as a kid. He used to spend whole afternoons playing in the snow with Loopey, and he’d come inside to those same smells of warm soup on the stove. Soup made with love by someone who’s happy to make it for him.
Made by someone who loves him.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, head suddenly spinning again. “That… that sounds good.”
He lays down, resting his head on the arm of the couch. Maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter why Drake loves him. He does, plain and simple, and Launchpad feels loved… Warm and cozy, wrapped up in a blanket they bought together… he’s safe and sound, and… he’s home. Whatever happens, he’ll always be loved when he’s with Drake, and that’s more than enough.
Jimmy turns to look at himself in the mirror again. Scott’s brought him a suit, made by Rivendell’s best tailors. It’s comfortable, and it’s his favourite colour. He loves it. He just… He doesn’t think it suits him. He tugs the front of the blazer down slightly.
“You look beautiful, love,” Scott says, sliding an arm around his waist and resting his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder. He looks a little ridiculous standing next to Jimmy right now, considering he’s still in his pyjamas. Usually it’s the other way around. Jimmy smiles at the sight.
“It’s not really my thing. Fancy is your thing.”
“I know, but you’ve got to have at least one suit that fits you.”
“Still. I look like I shout at my advisors because they tell me I can’t do what I want.”
“Jim,” Scott sighs, moving to stand in front of the mirror. Jimmy frowns at his tone. He feels like he’s about to be lectured.
“I’m just sayin’! It looks weird. I really don’t like it.”
“Well, I think you look cute,” he rests his hand on Jimmy’s face, “and even if you don’t like it, at least you’ve got one.”
Jimmy hums, leans down a little to rest his forehead gently on Scott’s. Scott is giving him a small smile, but Jimmy can see every bit of the love and fondness in his eyes.
It still gives him butterflies being this close to Scott. They’ve been together for years now, and he still somehow manages to make Jimmy flustered with the smallest of things. Scott, of course, takes advantage of this at every possible opportunity.
Which apparently includes this one. He leans up to press a gentle kiss to Jimmy’s lips, and Jimmy can feel his cheeks flush. Cod. He’ll never understand how Scott can do that so easily.
He grins when he pulls back and sees how red Jimmy is. He’s proud of himself – far too proud of himself for Jimmy’s liking. It’s cute, but annoying.
Jimmy leans down for another kiss, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and pulling him closer. He’s cold, just like always, and Jimmy pulls him closer still, slips a hand under the back of his shirt. He can feel Scott smile into the kiss.
When they next pull away for a breath, Scott’s cheeks are dusted pink as well. Good, Jimmy thinks. He’s getting him back, at least.
“You’re way too competitive about us kissing, y’know.” There’s a clear grin in Scott’s voice.
“What, do you not want me to kiss you? Because I can stop doing that if you want, it’s-”
He’s cut off by Scott pulling him in for another, slightly messier kiss, his hand resting on the back of Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy grins into it.
“You just said that cuz you knew I’d kiss you again, didn’t you?” Scott mumbles, his face still close to Jimmy’s. Jimmy shrugs a little.
“Maybe.”
Scott rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, but he lets Jimmy kiss him again, gentler this time.
[ao3 link / reblogs appreciated!]
this was a treat for the @extrememcytexchange !! super fun to take part in, i had the time of my life :D
Are there any fanfictions you reccomend? I only know AO3, I'm curious if there are any other archives or forums
hello, kind anon! sorry this took me so long to respond to!
i generally use ao3 as well, so i'm sorry i can't recommend works from another good forum. for the secret garden specifically, i assume fanfiction.net would have some gems! wattpad can be dubious, though, especially for more niche fandoms, and i tend to stay away from it.
as for specific fanfictions (i'm sorry, these will all be on ao3!), i love the echoing green, find some new way, and the promise of spring! i find them all to be quite true to the novel and very good with characterization. the promise of spring and the echoing green both have little elements of romance, but they aren’t intrinsically linked to the plot. another recommendation without romance is the rain falling on the sunshine, although it does deal with some heavy topics.
i also write fanfiction under the name fightingwiththewind! my hyacinth series deals with the trio growing up, and your braids like a pattern is a cute little gen story about mary learning how to be more independent.
(My giftee for @duckblrsecretsanta2023 was @georgiarose! I hope you like it!)
Gyro and Fenton decide to head home together, and are greeted with the first snow of the season.
The lab is quiet. Manny went home hours ago, and Boyd and Huey took Lil Bulb back to the mansion for some kind of sleepover. That was… four hours ago? Five? Gyro’s been too wrapped up in his latest project to pay much attention to the clock. If he just adjusts this dial, and attaches the wiring to the panels just right, it might work better than last time. And Fenton’s part should be finished tomorrow, so they can start beta tests on this version, so–
“It’s, um, it’s getting late, is all,” Fenton stumbles through his sentences. “I guess–I, um, I just think you should get some rest too. And now would be a good time! I–I mean, if you want to, that is, I–yeah. Sleep?”
Gyro looks up from the gizmo he’s been tinkering with, catching a glimpse of a fading blush on Fenton’s cheek feathers. He hadn’t been listening, but the sight gives him butterflies–why, he doesn’t know, they’ve been together for a few months now–and he puts down his work. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to go home and get some rest now, anyway. They’ve had a lot of late nights in the lab lately, one too many projects in progress, and he knows they’ll both do better work when they’re well-rested, anyway.
“That sounds great, Doctor,” he replies, watching that blush blossom across Fenton’s face again. He’s usually not one to tease, at least not so affectionately, but Fenton’s a sweetheart, and he loves to see him flustered. “Maybe I’ll buy us something to eat, on the way.”
“Oh! I, um, yeah. I–yes! Food sounds great!” Fenton smiles like sunshine, lighting up the lab as he turns to leave. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get our coats!”
Gyro watches him go with a smile of his own. Sometimes it feels like they’re still learning how to be in love. He definitely is. But Fenton… he’s easy to love, with his nervous kindness and drive to help everyone he can and excitement for new, unknown experiences–Gyro really doesn’t know how he ever found Fenton annoying before. His boyfriend is everything he’s ever wanted.
When he returns, Fenton’s bundled up in a scarf M’ma insisted he wear and a pair of mittens gifted to him by a grateful citizen, and carrying Gyro’s coat. Ever the chivalrous gentleman, he helps Gyro into his own coat and scarf, and leads the way to the elevator so he can open the doors for them.
Gyro shuts off the lights, each bank of bright white lights turning inky black with a click. Then, he takes Fenton’s hand, and they head for the surface together.
The ground floor is quiet, a single row of lights left on when everyone else went home. Gyro’s used to leaving this late, if he leaves at all—usually he’d end up taking a quick nap in the lab or stay up until dawn without realizing it—but Fenton squeezes his hand nervously. Gyro draws circles with his thumb on the back of Fenton’s hand reassuringly, taking the lead toward the lobby.
The front doors are giant, with equally large windows looking out at the empty parking lot. The sky is gloomy and dark, even for this late hour, and as they approach the exit, it becomes obvious that it’s started to snow. The big windows reveal small snowflakes drifting down to the pavement in a silent, sparkling dance.
“It’s snowing!” Fenton chirps excitedly, pushing open one of the doors. “Gyro, look!”
“It sure is,” he agrees, pulling the collar of his coat up as if to hide from the snowflakes. “First of the season.”
“Yeah!” His partner looks to the sky with wide, wonder-filled eyes, then spins around slowly as he looks up. “It’s beautiful! I hope it sticks, we could wake up tomorrow to a winter wonderland!”
“Yeah, beautiful,” Gyro agrees. But he isn’t looking at the snow—he’s focused on Fenton’s hair, snowflakes clinging to it like glitter. Focused on his boyfriend’s bright eyes and wide smile, and his delight over something as small as the wintery weather. Fenton’s enchanted by the snow, and Gyro… well, he’s enchanted by Fenton.
Science can explain many things, Gyro thinks, watching him twirl a slow circle under a yellow parking lot light. Science can explain the way that light glows, and why the snow is falling slowly and softly, and science can even explain why his heart begins to race, watching Fenton pause and turn to look back at him. It takes Gyro’s breath away, looking at the way he’s standing, with a glowing yellow halo behind him and sparkly snowflakes clinging to his shoulders.
Science can do plenty, but this doesn’t feel scientific at all. Leaning in for a kiss, bathed in golden light and silent snow, it feels… magical, instead. Fenton’s warm hand caresses Gyro’s cold cheek feathers, and the world beyond this quiet, empty parking lot seems to fade away around them. Gyro closes his eyes, leaning into the warm embrace and pulling Fenton a little closer.
This moment is not science, but magic, and Gyro wants to remember this feeling forever.
