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Something for Me

Here's my story for @duck-zine! Super honored and proud to have been part of this amazing project, and a major shout-out and thank-you to @tealottie for being my wonderfully awesome spot artist 💖, and to @zeke1 for proofreading, and to everyone that worked on and supported the zine! You can still check out our leftover sales and support wildlife here!

AO3 link | fic playlist

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On the ride back to McDuck Manor from Morning Joe’s coffee shop, Penumbra feels like she’s flying—literally. How someone can manage to make a stretch limo jump while going uphill is beyond her (or maybe it’s just a quirk of Earth physics she hasn’t become accustomed to yet), but that’s Launchpad’s driving skills for you.

The feathery-light feeling bubbling in her chest and the wind blowing wildly through her hair out the window contribute to the feeling, too. It’s enough to feel like she’s under the effects of lunar gravity again. Now, though, it’s all the more confirmation that she’s embracing her new identity of Earth Penumbra.

The warmth on her skin from the sunlight pouring through the atmosphere feels nice, too. It feels natural, and makes her wonder how she ever spent the greater part of her years tolerating the Moon’s extreme temperatures. Medium-warm is just right.

The snippets of birdsong she manages to catch speeding by, the music blasting from the car radio, Della’s shrieks of laughter as she sings to boy bands from the backseat, even the wind rushing past her ears…

After the events of yesterday, it’s all so new, so invigorating, so pleasant.

The sun has just risen over the hangar by the time Launchpad crashes into an innocent group of shrubs off the taxiway. The collision barely misses the nose of the Cloudslayer parked outside. Everyone’s fine, of course, but Della still leaps out of the limo to hug the underbelly of her plane, petting it lovingly.

“Are you okay?” she coos to the metal. “It’s okay, the mean man didn’t mean to scare you.” She sends a warning glare towards Launchpad for his near-miss, pointedly overlooking every time he’s totaled the aircraft in the past.

“Sorry, Della!” the driver says, grinning sheepishly as he closes the car door behind him.

Della’s ire burns off quickly with a final “I’m-watching-you” gesture, the overall mood too good to spoil. “Just focus that destructive energy on the rocket today, okay?”

“Can do!”

While Launchpad runs towards the hangar housing Penumbra’s ship, Della gathers with the Moonlander, who looks completely amused by her antics. The two women fall in line next to each other as they watch the kids chase after Launchpad.

Penumbra leans in, her jest wary. “Should I be concerned that almost all of my experiences with vehicles thus far have resulted in crashes and other catastrophes?”

“If Launchpad has been your chauffeur, then nah. If anything, I’d say you have an impressive record going there.” Della chuckles and nudges her playfully with her shoulder, reaching her forearm. “It’ll balance out over time.”

Within a few moments, they’re interrupted by the sound of the hangar’s rolling door sliding up, squeaking at its usual spot (Della should really fix that). It reveals a massive golden spacecraft, gleaming even in the shade of the structure.

It’s so magnificent and shiny, it’d almost be a shame to tear it apart.

Almost.

Launchpad steps out from the edge of the doorframe, dusting off his hands and looking from the rocket to the group as they reach him. The lot of them take stock of just how much work is ahead.

Della takes a deep breath while eyeing the ship up and down, and starts planning things out in her head as the aviator in her takes over. “Uncle Scrooge will have a fit if we don’t try to at least salvage some of this gold. We need to take the guts of the rocket out first before we get to the body, though. How many systems did you already install, Penny?” she asks.

“Oh, they’re all in there. Whether they’re actually all connected is a different matter.” Penumbra owns her admission of poor engineering in building the ship in stride. “I assume that will make our job that much easier, yes?”

“Oh yeah,” Della confirms, smirking proudly at her friend.

Webby, who has been bouncing on her heels since they arrived, bursts forward with her usual boisterous energy lacing her questions. “Will you need the crane to get the engine and stuff out? Can Dewey and I drive it?” She asks the last part pointedly, shifting her eyes towards Dewey whom she’s been trying to pull out of a Timmy-Jenkins-induced slump since last night.

Letting that much energy near heavy machinery feels like a bad idea to Della (or at least to the responsible-mom part of her brain), but she also sees the forlorn look on her son’s face and wants to see him smiling again.

“We’ll see how things are going when we get to that,” she finally answers, earning an uptick in hope from the two ducklings. This gives her some time, at least. With a clap of her hands, she begins doling out tasks. This may be Penumbra’s rocket, but it’s her hangar. “Alright, LP, can you and Penny get scaffolding set up on both sides of the rocket? We’ll work from the top down, getting access panels off first. Dewey, Webby, come help me get some tools out.”

They divide into their sub-groups, Della leading the kids over to the side wall and flicking on the overhead work lights as she passes the switch. The hangar comes alive as Penumbra yells out a quick “thank you!” from the far side of the ship.

There’s a diagram of the ship’s plans that the Moonlander had been referring to while building for the past couple weeks laid out on Della’s workbench, held flat by a couple books and wrenches, and lit by a smaller desk light. It makes Della’s breath hitch, a flood of uncalled-for memories of taping back together the Spear of Selene’s owner’s manual, of poring over every page to get the Spear’s construction right and to get off that rock, of handing the book over like a clueless pawn to a dangerous invader. One little mistake that almost cost her the world she so desperately fought to return to.

Of designing the original blueprints for the Spear, in part right on this very bench.

How things have come full circle.

Della takes a deep breath back to the present, clenching her hands into fists before releasing them. She’s back, and they’re dismantling a rocket for the purpose of staying on Earth. And while she can’t ever be grateful for what she did, for those eleven years lost, she’s grateful for what this moment is giving her: the chance to appreciate that Penumbra is in her life, that she was a life preserver when she needed it most. She wants to stay here on her planet, on their shared planet now.

It still amazes her how much the past day has changed her—Della still has questions for her friend; she needs the full story—but she’s happy for now knowing that Penumbra has a newfound peace.

Maybe she’d like to celebrate later by burning the ship’s plans in a bonfire (in a totally well-adjusted way, of course).

Pulling herself away from pyro-related thoughts, Della turns to her son. “Dewey, do you want to set up some music to play, sweetie?”

This suggestion improves Dewey’s demeanor greatly, his posture lifting out of its previous slump. “Really?”

“I can’t think of a better duck for the job.” She smiles and watches him run over to the hangar’s sound system dock with an excited “yesss!”, his phone already out and open to his music app, then turns to the other duckling. “Webby, there’s some extra toolboxes on that shelf over there. Can you grab a couple of those for me?”

“Sure thing!”

While Webby bounds over to the shelves, Della heads over to her red tool chest. Her hand runs over all the rows of slim drawers before landing on the eighth one down and tugging it open. A neat display of ratchet wrenches are laid out before her, including those that Penumbra has considerately returned to their proper places every night while working on the rocket.

“Here you go!” Webby chirps from her side, hoisting up two metal toolboxes for her to see.

“Thanks, kiddo. Now, if you can hold them open for me…”

The smaller duck does so, thrusting one forth like an empty treasure chest as Della adds a selection of different-sized ratchet wrenches and sockets to it. She moves onto the drawer below to add open-end wrenches and various other tools. They repeat the process with the other toolbox, finishing up just as music starts blasting out of the hangar’s speakers.

It’s one of Powerline’s earlier hits, and Della’s already shimmying her shoulders to it as Dewey joins them again with equal enthusiasm.

“Great choice, Dewey!” she says, ruffling her kid’s hair before handing him the first toolbox.

“Thanks–oof! Man, this is heavy!” he says before falling in line next to Webby, who’s holding hers like it’s as light as a lunchbox. He gives her the briefest grumble.

“Now, there’s just one more thing we need to add…” Della starts, eyeing her mini fridge. She walks over to it, the kids following, and pulls out a pack of Pep cans alongside a variety box of candy from the shelf above it. When she turns around, their eyes light up in anticipation. “Who wants snacks?!”

–

On the other side of the hangar, hidden from view by the rocket, Penumbra and Launchpad are securing the penultimate section of scaffolding into place. They’ve been chatting here and there, but for the moment, the Moonlander’s letting herself nod along to the music while Launchpad tightens one last butterfly nut into place.

Once he’s done so and they start to maneuver the last section into place, he decides to finally ask what’s been on his mind.

“So,” he begins, pretending to contemplate, voice low and sly. “Just narrowing things down after what you told me last night…you like Della, don’t you?”

Penumbra glances at him through the supports between them, confused. “Of course I like her, she’s my best friend.”

With the scaffolding in place, they start to secure their respective sides.

“I mean, you like-like her, as in, you love her.”

Penumbra, who’s been working so smoothly thus far, loses her grip on the nut she’s been fastening. Her hand slips and nearly scratches against the metal. She hisses at the loss of control, then darts her eyes between Launchpad and over his shoulder, worried that Della might walk around the corner at any second.

“Shhh!” she whispers, holding her hand close by reflex. The confident front she’s been projecting all morning falters under the question. “Hu– what?! I… H-how did you know?”

Launchpad gestures proudly to himself, and lowers his voice as well. “Penumbra, please. If there’s one thing I know besides crashing and Darkwing Duck, it’s love.” He offers her a friendly smile. “I’ve picked up on what’s going on lately.” He almost adds a between you two, but he doesn’t want to spoil the game for them.

The Penumbra of the past would’ve felt defeated at revealing a weakness. This Penumbra, though shy and vulnerable about her secret, is all the more sure of who she is and who she wants. After a moment, she swallows and nods, a deep violet blush blooming in her cheeks. The butterfly nut catches her focus once again. “Y-yeah, you’re right.”

She hadn’t realized that she’d been so obvious about it, but it feels nice to have someone else know.

Launchpad, meanwhile, is absolutely giddy about her confirming his theory. He starts to make very excited sounds before she cuts him off by loudly clearing her throat. Her battle-sharp senses hear the others approaching, and a few seconds later Della and the kids round the corner, armed with tools. When Penny looks back at the orange-haired pilot, he’s as cool as a lunar crater, working on fastening things and humming along to the music.

Penumbra follows suit, her fingers tightening the nut in front of her, but her eyes remain fixed on the bow of the ship. She jumps when Della starts speaking right next to her, her blush returning.

“Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Huh? Oh. No, it, uh, it just still feels surreal that I’m not going back now.” Her cover is true enough. “I think Moon Penumbra is still in shock about that, heh.”

Della tilts her head. “Moon Penumbra?”

She looks over at Webby, who’s fastening the rest of Launchpad’s scaffolding at lightning speed, with a little knowing smile. “Small Della gave me some good advice.”

Della is getting drawn into the story—this is what she’s been dying to know, after all—but quickly comes back to the space she’s in. “Hold that thought, actually,” she says, low enough for only Penumbra to hear. With a whistle, she gathers everyone together.

“Okay, we all know what we’re doing?” If her curiosity is rushing her, no one is none the wiser. “We’re getting the access panels off first. LP, Dewey, and Webby, you three take the other side, and us moon ladies will take this side.” She leans into her friend’s side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

With her confession to Launchpad still fresh, the contact jolts Penumbra’s nerves. It takes all her willpower to keep Earth Penumbra and her confidence in control, but darn it if Della doesn’t give amazing hugs, even side ones.

“Whoever finishes their side first wins and gets to add three songs to Dewey’s playlist! Okay, go!” Della finishes before Dewey can protest. She grabs the second toolbox from him and scoots him towards his side, Webby out of sight and probably already scaling their scaffolding effortlessly.

Fortunately, she doesn’t see the thumbs-up of encouragement that Launchpad directs towards Penumbra, who minutely shakes her head at him.

When it’s finally just the two of them, Della eyes Penumbra’s Glomwheel shirt. “Are you sure you want to wear that while working? It might get dirty.”

The Moonlander looks down at her torso and shrugs. “Eh, I’ll keep it on. That way it can collect battle scars from taking apart the ship!”

Della laughs and grabs her hand, pulling her along to the middle of the ship so they can climb up to its top. “Alright, let’s do this!”

As excited as Penumbra is to indeed do this and take apart her ship, all she can think about is how her three Moon fingers fit so snugly with Della’s four Earth ones.

–

By the time they reach the top and start loosening nuts off their first panel, Penumbra has found her cool again. It helps to have a serious task to focus on, and to not have a third party there to potentially reveal any secrets.

It only takes a minute for Della to bring their previous conversation up.

“So, what did happen yesterday?”

Penumbra raises an eyebrow at her. “Gibbous told the story this morning. You heard him.”

Della shakes her head. “No, I mean, what happened to you?” She points her wrench at her. “When you left here yesterday, you were so dead-set on going back to the Moon, and I doubt it was just taking on a ferris wheel that changed your mind so much. I wanna hear your side of the story.”

There’s a desperate part of Della that just wants to go up to the Moonlander, shake her by the shoulders, and ask what she really wants to know: What changed your heart?

“It was that. Finding my kind of Earth fun.” Penumbra pauses, looking intently at her reflection in the gold paneling. “And hamburgers.”

“Hamburgers?”

Her smile from before returns, warm at the memory of last night’s feast. “All the kinds of ‘fun’ we were trying before the ferris wheel just weren’t working for me, so Small Dell–Webby talked to me and purchased a lot of hamburgers.”

“And I take it that’s where ‘Moon Penumbra’ comes in?”

Della has managed to get her share of nuts and bolts off the panel while listening, so Penumbra resumes her side as she continues. “Yeah. She explained how she’s become all these different Webbys over time thanks to her family, and that while I’ll always be Moon Penumbra, I can also be a great Earth Penumbra if I give it a chance.”

She stands up to help Della pull the panel off the ship, only to find the duck looking at her like she just said everything she’s ever wanted to hear from her, for her. In that moment, Penumbra taps into all the courage she’s been feeling over the past day and deliberately holds her gaze, adding a hint of a smirk. “...After all, there’s a lot more Earth fun to explore.”

While she starts to pry the panel off, Della tries to move her jaw, to say anything reasonable in response to either the heartfelt admission or the electric moment sparking butterflies in her stomach. Luckily her hands are still in commission, and she manages to help with the panel. They carry it towards the end of the scaffolding and lay it down before returning to the next one. Only then does she find her voice again.

“Well, after everything that you went through, I’m glad you decided to give Earth fun a shot. And I’ll be happy to help you explore it.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, Best Friend.”

–

Within the hour, there’s a growing list of fun plans made for the future (they’re going to go rock climbing next weekend) and a neat stack of gold panels at the end of each level of scaffolding. The rocket is starting to look less like a ship and more like an unfinished puzzle.

When Della and Penumbra go around to their opponents’ side, they find only Launchpad using a crowbar to pry off the few remaining panels. Before they can ask about the kids, a series of squeals and laughter from outside clues them in and they turn to find Dewey and Webby chasing after each other. The afternoon sun illuminates them as they ride on some old kick scooters that had been stored in the corner of the hangar.

Della turns to them and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to one side. She chuckles softly.

“What is it?” Penumbra asks.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just that they remind me of Donald and I running around like that when we were little. We used to ride those sometimes at the Money Bin while Uncle Scrooge was working, and would race up and down the bridge all the time.”

Penumbra catches the sweet nostalgic smile that warms Della’s whole face, and– yeah, this is what she wants on Earth, right here: moments of Della lighting up like her family is the Sun on a clear day; of seeing her love life so much it makes her own heart glow like it’s bathed in Earthshine; of staying in orbit around her, around each other, bound by something more powerful than any force in the universe.

These feelings are threatening to burst out of her chest, she has to say something. But before she can begin to open her mouth, Della opens hers, shouting for the kids.

“Crane time!” she announces once Dewey and Webby ride up to them at the mouth of the hangar.

Dewey, knowing his priorities, first asks, “What about the race? Who won?” It’s only after he asks that he notices Launchpad setting the final panel from the ship down on their stack.

Della shrugs. “We did, but I’ll tell you what: if you two promise to be extra-careful about driving the crane, we’ll let your side be the ones to add to the playlist.”

She’s met with three enthusiastic cheers, and within half an hour they’re set up with the crane. Penumbra and Launchpad take charge of harnessing and securing the crane’s hook to each part in the rocket. Della hangs on by the operator cab’s door to supervise as her son controls the machine. They’ve already had a good deal of flying lessons together and she trusts his capabilities, but somehow a fixed crane in an enclosed space puts her more on edge than a plane soaring through the open skies.

She doesn’t need to worry, though.

Between her watchful guidance and Dewey’s excitement at controlling the crane to do his bidding, he successfully maneuvers his first hooked part out of the top of the rocket. It’s the propellant tank, which never saw an ounce of gold or liquid fuel to propel this vessel.

After another part, Webby takes a turn in the driver’s seat. They go back and forth until Webby decides that she wants to ride on the cable of the crane to help guide it.

Out comes the oxidizer tank, the combustion chamber, the nozzles, pumps, electrical systems, navigation and guidance systems, even the shell of the capsule that would’ve held Penumbra on her flight back. She didn’t even get a chance to install her chair in it.

By the time they’re all done, the sun is starting its downward trek for the horizon as rocket parts are strewn across the hangar and spilling out onto the taxiway. The gold and metal shine brilliantly in the light. The kids return to their scooters, now having a blast weaving in and out of the chaos.

Most of these parts will be repurposed or salvaged, or used in who-knows-what way by Gyro.

There’s still a ways to go with dismantling the entire shell of the rocket, but they’ve done most of the work now. To celebrate, Launchpad offers to go get some Hamburger Hippo meals as a treat for dinner, leaving Della and Penumbra to tend to things in solitude.

“Wait right here,” Della instructs before walking over to another set of shelves in the hangar.

Penumbra does as she’s told, but still asks, “What are you doing?”

“Hang on…” There’s a scuffle of sound, of a case snapping open then closed, items clashing together, and then heavy tools being yanked across concrete. Della returns, a pair of safety goggles dangling on her forearm and a sledgehammer being dragged along in each hand. “Here,” she grunts, urging one of the hammers to her friend.

Penumbra quickly steps forward to meet her halfway and easily takes the tool, then the proffered eyewear. She inspects the latter. “What’s all this about?”

Della nods past her shoulder toward a rocket part sitting just inside the hangar threshold. Her actions have been very direct, but her voice is laced with a certain hesitation. “I know we’ve just been ‘dismantling,’ but I thought, since you’re set on staying now, I-I mean if you want…we could…actually destroy the combustion chamber, together? As a symbolic thing, you know, since it’s kinda the heart of the rocket?”

She’d been gesticulating through her whole spiel, eyes everywhere but Penumbra, but now she finally looks up at her with her offer made clear.

There’s so much in that offer: a basic, longing need for reassurance for Della that Penumbra truly wants to stay on Earth, a hint of flirtation in the desire for them to be together, and a shared history with assembling and dismantling their rockets.

In a word, it’s hope.

But Della also knows that this presents a moment for Penumbra, and she leaves it open for the Moonlander to think and feel whatever she needs to. She was the one who crashed the Spear of Selene; she’s had a lot of final say with these rockets, and Della’s giving her this final word as well.

It doesn’t take long at all.

Penumbra catches all the subtext, then just as quickly puts on the goggles, rolls her shoulders, and beams at Della with that unshakable smirk. “I’d love nothing more,” she answers.

Della feels like her spirit is flying free at that. She smiles almost way too giddy in return, puts on her own goggles, and gestures for them to walk over to their target.

The combustion chamber is nothing more than a large curved canister, unassuming in appearance save for its unique gold composition. Despite its plainness, it’s where all the action happens behind the scenes, where the fuel and oxidizer are mixed and burned to create thrust to propel the rocket into space.

It’s what lights the candle.

And it is, indeed, a heart of gold.

Once they’re ready, Della bows low and sweeps her hand towards the chamber. “After you, m’lady,” she says grandly in her most distinguished voice.

“Why thank you,” Penumbra accepts, just as silly. One more crack of her knuckles, and then—

With a powerful warrior’s yell, she swings her sledgehammer forward. Every muscle in her arms, shoulders, and heart flex together, her hair whooshing back with the effort. It all leads to a very loud, satisfying impact. There’s a crater in that combustion chamber, and some smaller pieces even fly off. Penumbra’s grinning like there’s no tomorrow at the end of it all.

Della, who just had a front-row seat to all of this, is absolutely stunned. She needs a moment, partly to let it sink in that Penumbra so willingly took her offer, and partly to commit all of that sequence to memory. That was so unbelievably hot and strong, she might never fully recover.

As Penumbra recovers from the swing, she’s not even breaking a sweat. When she catches Della’s smitten and gobsmacked stare, however, this is no longer the case. Her face catches on fire and she’s blushing such a deep shade of purple, she can feel it under her safety goggles.

Now that she’s been caught openly expressing her feelings, Della’s face is the Sun.

In any other situation, both of them would be quick to look away. For this, however, as nerve-wracking as it is, they maintain eye contact. It’s like they can’t look away, and it’s driving their hearts wild.

In a way, the ball is in Della’s court, being the one who was caught ogling. She wills herself to be vulnerable, letting Penumbra read her. Letting her read the love and admiration she’s feeling and expressing in every way except verbally.

For Penumbra it’s the same, confronted by everything she’s been holding back on saying throughout the day: that Della has her heart, that she couldn’t leave this planet now even if she wanted to.

There’s a part of them both that is screaming kiss her, you dolt! While that part would not be unjustified, they both know that this is not a first-kiss moment. That’s not what’s happening here.

It’s a moment of souls weaving together, of “I found you.” Of understanding, of “yeah, this is real, for us both.”

Penumbra’s the first of them to smile, it’s an open smile that makes her features soft and sincere amidst the vulnerability, and Della follows suit. It feels like an acknowledgement of what just happened, which excites them even further because they know they’re on the same page and man isn’t that thrilling?!

They still can’t look away from each other, but slowly the sound of music over the speakers brings them back to their senses.

Della’s not sure if it was the moment, their hearts, or the bang! of Penumbra’s first swing (or all three) that drowned out the tunes so effectively in the first place, but it does give her something else to latch onto. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Penumbra confirms.

And so the destruction of the combustion chamber continues.

The two women lose themselves in the music and all the noise, fun, and satisfaction of hitting things. Penumbra’s swings land a lot stronger than Della’s, but Della is getting a lot of catharsis out of smashing a rocket part that would’ve had the capability of going to the Moon.

It seems that crushing this particular heart is doing a lot of good.

–

After the combustion chamber is reduced to zilch and Launchpad returns with the food, Della leads Penumbra up to the catwalk of the hangar with their meal and some Peps. The light of the sunset is hitting the high back corners of the hangar and shimmering onto so many different angles of gold within the shrapnel below.

They sit somewhere above the former port side of the rocket just taking it all in, their legs dangling through the bars of the catwalk. Their clothes are splotched with grease and a few scratches from the day’s work, but they’re both still sporting smiles.

As she unwraps her first burger, Penumbra says all too casually, “Yeah, that was definitely a barrel of monkeys.”

“Okay, what’s with that?” Della asks, somewhat amused but still very baffled by the Earth slang the Moonlanders have been picking up.

“Mmph.” This Moonlander’s already a bite into her burger, and she covers her mouth while she chews. “Zenith said it’s Earth-speak for ‘fun.’ You’ve never heard it before?”

Della quickly backtracks. “Oh no, I have! It’s been ages though.” She laughs a bit then settles into her own food.

They eat for a while, relishing the meal, but before long Penumbra catches her dinner-mate watching her again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that it’s nice to see you eating something here on Earth.” Amongst many things, Penumbra’s hunger strike had worried Della, especially since any mention of it was met with a warrior’s brash defense.

Again, it was amazing what one day could change.

“Hm, hamburgers alone make it all worth it,” Penumbra declares, getting a chuckle out of both of them.

“Oh man, then we’re definitely gonna have to have some barbecues.”

“Barb-a-queue?”

Della tries to explain, waving her burger around for emphasis. “It’s like a grand outdoor meal where we cook things on a grill—like a fire! Just…you’ll see. Maybe we’ll have one after rock climbing next weekend.”

“Sounds good to me!”

They continue to chat and eat as the sunset starts to fade and the lights of the hangar below them become more evident. Launchpad and the kids are still somewhere below, all three gearing up for a post-dinner scooter race competition. The music is still playing, the acoustics of the hangar amplifying the space each song takes up.

Penumbra’s still in awe of everything she’s gone through in such a short amount of time, of how quickly her life changed for the better. The weight of the world—the Moon and the Earth—is off her shoulders now, leaving the door wide open to explore it all with those she loves. It feels like she’s opening her eyes anew, seeing everything imbued with pure daylight.

With the way Della sighs sweetly, leaning back on her hands and enjoying the moment as she swings her legs back and forth beneath her, Penumbra knows she’s feeling the same.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Della says, looking out into the hangar.

Closing the distance between them, Penumbra presses a gentle kiss to Della’s cheek.

She returns to her original position, a blush blooming across both their faces, and looks out into the airspace as well. Her hand bravely covers Della’s between them, her smile knowing as Della turns to look at her in wonder.

“Me too.”

Who needs a rocket? Her heart can fly all on its own.

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