Chapter Text
The hum and swish of the machines filled the building’s basement laundromat, providing surprisingly calming background noise as Gyro perched on a hard plastic chair, paging through the latest issue of the Journal of Applied Physics. He’d just read a fascinating article on the potential of splitting water to create hydrogen-powered fuel cells- the theory seemed sound, though Gyro personally thought the Methods section was poorly written. A buzzer sounded and he set the journal aside, moving his clothes from washer to dryer.
“Blatherskite.” Gyro muttered to himself, digging through his pockets. He needed four quarters, and only had three quarters and a nickel. Stupid coin-laundry. He had a dollar bill, but the change machine had a permanent out-of-order sign. He wondered briefly if he should try to fix it, then decided to leave it alone and headed upstairs, leaving his sopping clothes in the open drier, hoping no one else who lived in the building would find some reason to move them.
“Hey Launchpad?” he poked his head into the apartment. His roommate was standing at the sink, which was full of soapy suds and several days’ worth of dirty dishes.
“What’s up, GG?” Gyro clenched his at the nickname. He found it irritating. But, he’d also never actually asked Launchpad to stop. It didn’t seem worth starting a conflict over.
“Do you happen to have a quarter?”
“Laundry?” Gyro nodded, and Launchpad dried his hands and started to dig through his jacket pockets. “Let’s see… granola bar, rubber band ball, paper airplane, Quackerjack figurine, some pens... ” Launchpad tossed the items onto the table as he named them, “Band-aid, car keys, can of beans, hand sanitizer, oooo that’s where my extra hat went…”
“Why do you have all that in your jacket?”
Launchpad shrugged. “Just in case. Aha! There’s a quarter!” He tossed it to Gyro, then started replacing the contents of his pockets. .
“Thanks.” Gyro took the coin and turned to go. “Oh, and thanks for taking care of the dishes too. Sorry I neglected them for a couple of days.”
Launchpad waved a hand dismissively. “No worries, I’ve been forgetting too! I gotta clean up now though because I’ve got someone coming over in a bit.”
“Oh, is Ziyi back in town?”
“Nah, that was just a casual thing. Someone new this time. Their name’s Remy. I met them the other week at Saludo’s- you should really should come with next time the Cabs play-”
Gyro averted his eyes, guiltily. Despite the fact that he had told Donald Duck he might go see the band play, he hadn’t. The workday leading up to the show had been full of pointlessly stressful meetings- the type that really should have been emails, that dragged on for no reason. So he’d holed up in his room the moment he’d gotten home.
“So Remmy works weekends, but they finally have today off. They’ll just be here for lunch though, then we’ll go out to the park or something so we’re out of your hair.”
Gyro realized he’d tuned out half of Launchpad’s story about how he’d met Remy, but he smiled halfheartedly. “Sounds fun. I should head downstairs and finish my laundry, though.”
Launchpad nodded, plunging his hands into the soapy sink. “Yeah, and I should finish these. Too bad we don’t have a dishwasher, huh?”
Gyro stared at the soapy sink for a moment, then at the quarter in his hand. It would be easier if they had a dishwasher, he thought as he started down the stairs again. And it would also be easier if they didn’t have to use the coin-operated laundry in the basement…
A few days later, the kitchen table was covered with several sketches. Gyro was staring at them, chewing on the end of his pencil. He could make this simple. Both a dishwasher and a clothes-washer, were, essentially, a metal box with soap and hot water. But he could do better than that. Really get down to the fundamentals. What was laundry, at its essence? He typed a few notes into his laptop. There ought to be a way to get the device to recognize the ideal state of a clean dish, or article of clothing, and do whatever was necessary to replicate it. No awkward grains of dry rice still stuck in a bowl, no sweat-stains that wouldn’t come out no matter how many times you washed them. He could really perfect this, if he could get the internal algorithm correct. Maybe, if this home prototype worked well, he could also pitch the idea of the All-Washer to Mr. McDuck and his board.
He was about to scribble a few more notes when the door opened. “Oh hey, GG! You’re home earlier than usual.”
Gyro gave a distracted wave without looking up. “Slow day at work. I’m mostly waiting on approval from upper management before I can do much other than organize the lab supplies. Again. But I was excited about finalizing the sketches for the All-Washer”
A voice that was definitely not Launchpad’s replied. “Well, it’s good to see that you still exist, Gearloose! We haven’t seen you in weeks!” Della Duck had entered the apartment behind Launchpad, and was grinning cheekily at him.
Launchpad looked at the drawings on the table. “Those look cool! But I wanted to ask you if you’re interested in taking a break tonight. The Cabs are playing at Saludos again! I know you had to miss the last one, but…”
Della spun one of the kitchen chairs around and sat down, facing Gyro. “He’s asking you to come, but I’m telling you. You’re coming with us.”
That was surprisingly bold. “Why?” Gyro stared at her.
“Well, partially because you seem like the kind of guy who really needs to get out more, but mostly because Donald’s car keeps breaking down, and I’m not getting stuck down by the marina at midnight again.”
“Why would you need me? You’re both in aviation school. You should have some idea how to fix an engine.”
“Yes, but this is Donald’s car,” Della rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t break down normally. Always does extra-weird stuff.”
“Besides, I’m really only good with planes.” Launchpad added. “Anyway, I should get a shower before we head out, so you have some time to get ready before we go.”
Gyro picked up his pencil again, but Della snatched it from his hand. “He just said we have some time!” He glared at her.
Della tossed the pencil over her shoulder. It landed on the sofa, sticking up between two cushions. “Which you won’t be spending working. You need to get ready too. I mean, that outfit?
Gyro looked down. He was wearing pretty standard clothing, or so he thought- a paisley-printed button-down shirt and khaki slacks. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“You could do better. This one’s your room?” Della grabbed Gyro’s wrist and pulled him away from the kitchen table.
Without waiting for invitation, she opened his bedroom door and pulled him towards his closet. She started paging through Gyro’s modest collection of shirts, occasionally pausing before pushing the hangers down along the bar. “Gosh, turtlenecks? Sweatervests? I mean, it was obvious you’re a nerd, but wow.” she muttered under her breath. Gyro stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling extremely uncomfortable as he watched this strange and impulsive woman digging through his closet and judging his fashion sense.
She paused, pulling out a pink shirt with puffy sleeves. “Heh. Looks like something you’d wear to a disco. In like, the 70s.”
“I don’t doubt it was, originally.” Gyro explained. “That shirt belonged to my grandpappy Ratchet. A lot of those shirts did, actually. We ended up being almost exactly the same size, so after he died, I kept a bunch.”
“Oh.” Della stopped rifling through the hangers, and placed a few of the pieces she had tossed onto the floor back in place. She was now moving much more carefully, almost reverently. “It’s good to have heirlooms. To remember people.” Gyro noticed her run her right thumb instinctively over a plain silver bracelet on her left wrist. He decided not to ask about it.
“Are those your only shoes?” she asked after a moment, pointing to a pair of running shoes on the closet floor.
“Other than the ones I’m wearing, yeah.” Gyro tapped the toes of his penny loafers, and Della nodded.
“The loafers will do. And this gray vest will look good with just about anything, and… maybe this blue shirt?” Della tossed the vest and shirt to Gyro, who caught them.
“Do you own a tie?” she asked. “Just this one.” Gyro opened a drawer and pulled out a peach-colored necktie, printed with a repeating pattern of little lightbulbs. “Hmm, the vest would go better with a bowtie, but that will have to do.”
Della stepped out of the room so Gyro could change in peace. She nodded appraisingly as he stepped out into the hallway.
“Hmm, yeah. That works. You got any hair gel or something?” Della reached out and brushed Gyro’s hair out of his eyes. He pulled back. Rifling through his clothes he could deal with, but unexpected touching was another level.
“I don’t think so? Launchpad might, though.”
“Whatcha need?” The bathroom door open, and Launchpad, wearing nothing but a towel draped loosely over his hips, emerged. Gyro’s mouth went dry, and he quickly averted his eyes. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Launchpad was, by most standards, an attractive man. But he couldn’t just stand here ogling his roommate, that would be rude! “Hair gel?” His voice cracked a bit as he said it.
“Oh yeah- top drawer on the left.” Launchpad disappeared into his bedroom to get dressed.
Della was making no effort to hide her wandering eyes, and she gave an appreciative nod after Launchpad’s retreating backside, before she grabbed the tube of styling gel. Gyro stopped her before she squeezed any onto her hand. “Let me do it myself.”
He took the tube and carefully applied the product, fluffing his bangs up and pushing them to the side. Della leaned against the sink, carefully appraising him.
“Looks good on you. We’ll have to buy you some later.”
Saludos was not as crowded as Gyro feared it would be. There was a small patio that faced the harbor and a cozy indoor dining area, painted in warm shades of tan and lit by pink-tinted bulbs. There was a bar on the harbor side, and a second counter near the back to order food. Launchpad disappeared to find his date the moment they entered, leaving Gyro and Della to find a table. They each ordered a couple of tacos and a large bowl of chips and guacamole to share, then found a table facing the small raised dais that served as a stage, where Donald and a red-feathered rooster were tuning guitars, while a parrot with bright green feathers was wiring a sound board.
Launchpad returned, his arm draped loosely around the shoulders of a stockily-built duck with a shaggy mane of dark gray hair and a slightly pointed beak. “Hey guys, this is Remmy! Remmy, this is my roommate Gyro, and our friend Della- her brother is one of the performers tonight.”
Remmy set down the two large burritos they were carrying, then reached out and shook hands with Della, then Gyro. “Good to meet you both!” They spoke in a rough, gravelly voice but their mannerisms exuded a warm friendliness. Launchpad and Remmy were dressed nearly identically, in plaid flannel shirts unbuttoned over a printed tee. Launchpad’s T-shirt was, predictably, a vintage Darkwing Duck print, while Remmy’s featured Ziggy Starduck. Remmy had a demeanor similar to Launchpad’s, too- while their size was intimidating, they carried themself with a cheery affability- a sharp contrast to Ziyi’s elegant and businesslike manner.
But before anyone could converse further, the lights dimmed slightly, and the amplified sound of a guitar riff rang out through the space. Though plenty of people in the restaurant were still talking, Gyro was close enough to the speaker that he was able to focus mainly on the music. Their first number was catchy and upbeat, before they moved into a heartfelt ballad. Donald was clearly the weakest singer of the bunch, though the natural raspiness of his voice didn’t mean he was off-pitch, just hard to understand. Then again, the lyrics of several songs were in Spanish, so Gyro couldn’t fully understand them anyway. Gyro didn’t mind- he had more of an appreciation for string-playing anyway, as he had learned a bit of banjo and a bit of violin as a child. Musically, the Caballeros were quite good- all three sang and played guitar, with Donald occasionally switching to a string bass, and the parrot Jose added trumpet harmonies on a few pieces.
Upon finishing the first set, the Caballeros joined them at the table for another round of chips and salsa. Despite the fact that this group of friends was clearly very close-knit, they welcomed Gyro effortlessly, even if Panchito’s eyes glazed over rather quickly after he asked Gyro what he did for work.
After a while, the band-mates got up for a second set. Launchpad and Remmy took to the dance floor, leaving Gyro alone at the table with Della.
“I don’t suppose you want to dance?” she offered.
Gyro instinctively leaned back from her outstretched hand. “I don’t dance.” he said weakly.
“Pity. I was hoping to see if you were any good.”
“Why?”
“Well, y’know how LP and I are finishing up flight school next month?” Della was twirling her hair around one finger. What did that mean?
“Yeah?”
“So, there’s always this big formal gala in the evening after the graduation ceremony.”
“Ok.” Where was she going with this?
“I need you to be my date,” Della said casually, as if this was a completely normal thing to ask someone you’d only met twice.
Gyro felt his face flush red as he sputtered. “What? I mean, I’m flattered, but… I’m gay..”
“Yeah, I know that, genius. That’s what makes you the perfect date! You won’t be getting any ideas.”
“I… ok… but… I thought Launchpad said you have a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, but we’re long-distance, and she’s got a family thing that weekend.”
That made sense, he supposed, but still. Why was she asking him? “Couldn’t you just go to this shindig by yourself?”
“Look, Gearloose. I don’t really want to do this any more than you do. But if I show up as an unaccompanied young woman at a function with a bunch of tipsy pilots, I’ll be fighting off advances all night and have no time to enjoy myself.”
“So I’m coming to shield you from getting hit on?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Della shrugged.
“And what’s in it for me?”
“Well, the catering’s usually pretty good.”
Gyro sighed. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to be friendly with his boss’s family, right? ‘Networking and self-marketing are just as important as engineering!’ that's what his old college flame had often said. Ugh. Gyro had actually gone several days without thinking about that guy. Still, he may have had a point. Della was still watching him, a hopeful look in her eyes betraying her casual posture.
“Fine. I’ll go,” he said, and Della broke into a grin.
“Great. It’s formal, - you don’t own a tux, do you?”
“No.”
“All right. Selene’s got a great eye for style, and she’s in town the weekend before graduation. We’ll go shopping. See you then!” The Caballeros had just finished their final piece, and she sauntered off to help her brother take down the sound equipment.
The rest of the weekend was quiet. Launchpad had driven Gyro and Remmy back to the apartment after the concert, but the couple left for a 3-day backpacking trip early the following morning. Gyro happily used this time to work on the All-Washer, which was finished and assembled on the countertop by Monday morning. He’d even had time to write up a short instruction manual, hoping that this would prevent Launchpad from accidentally destroying it. He did a test run with his cereal bowl and coffee mug after breakfast. They came out perfectly clean, but the machine had also somehow produced a mismatched pair of novelty socks- one printed with little coffeepots, and the other designed after the mascot on the cereal box. Clearly there were still some bugs in the programming, but they’d have to wait until after work.
There was an enormous shaggy gray dog napping on the couch when he returned home in the evening. It looked up at him briefly, then rolled over and went back to sleep. “Uh… Launchpad?” Gyro asked the empty apartment, hoping his roommate was somewhere within earshot.
Launchpad’s desk chair rolled out of his room, scraping slightly on the hardwood floor. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t think our lease allowed pets?”
Launchpad blinked at him, confused, for a moment, then looked over at the dog. “Oh! That’s not a pet! That’s Remmy.”
“Buhbuhduh whaaaat?” Gyro looked from Launchpad to the massive dog and back again. “You mean- your datefriend Remmy?”
“Yeah- full moon yesterday.” Launchpad nodded sagely, as if this was supposed to explain everything, and spun his office chair to return to his room.
“What does the orbital position of Earth’s major satellite have to do with... this? ” Gyro indicated the dog, which looked up and sniffed the air for a moment.
“It’s fine, they’re only like this for another couple of hours, then they’ll change back. Standard wereduck rules.” Launchpad shrugged.
“ WEREDUCK? ” Gyro’s voice squeaked as he said the word. Remmy chuffed at him, as if annoyed.
“Careful, GG. Their ears are more sensitive when they’re like this.” The canine put their head back down and curled tighter around themself, tucking their nose under their tail. Gyro continued to stare at them.
“Did you... need to use the sofa or something?” Launchpad asked, breaking the silence. “They can come into my room if you--”
“I- wha- no.” Gyro shook his head. “I don’t need the sofa. I just didn’t know that wereducks were real.” Was that rude? Hopefully Remmy wouldn’t think he was being rude. They didn’t respond.
“Oh, Gyro! Wait.” Launchpad stopped him before he could return to his room. He pointed at the All-Washer on the counter. “Is it working? I was going to wash my backpacking clothes, but I wanted to ask you first if it was ready.”
“Yeah, should be. I did dishes this morning, worked fine. Don’t be surprised if it gives you some extra socks at the end, though.”
“Cool! I usually lose socks in the wash! It would be great to get more!” Launchpad rolled his chair back into his room and then emerged moments later with a laundry bag. Gyro took a few moments to show his roommate which buttons to press, then retreated to his bedroom to unwind with some computer games before dinner.
Gyro had just defeated the first boss in Super Benzino Quest when Launchpad knocked softly on his door. “Hey, GG? I don’t think I did it right.”
Gyro sighed and closed his laptop. “What happened?”
Remmy, now returned to their usual duck form, except for a pair of large pointy ears, was standing in the kitchen, looking over an array of dishware on the kitchen table. “At least you can say you’ve got some truly one-of-a-kind merch,” they said, holding up a purple plate with a design of Darkwing Duck printed on it. Gyro recognized the design from one of Launchpad’s favorite T-shirts.
He took a closer look at the dishes on the table. There were two more Darkwing-themed plates, as well as a set of child-sized forks and spoons with each of the Darkwing villains printed on the handle. There was a large salad bowl that mimicked the plaid of a flannel shirt Launchpad frequently wore. One pair of olive-green pants, as well as a lone sock, had returned from the washer untransformed.
Gyro examined up a mug, printed with a repeating pattern of tiny boxer-shorts over a white background. “Fascinating,” he said, crossing from the table to the all-washer. He opened the lid. Everything on the inside looked fine, so he grabbed a screwdriver and undid the front panel. “Ah! There’s your problem!” Launchpad and Remmy came to peer over his shoulder.
“See this dial?” Gyro said, pointing. “It’s pointing in between the ‘dishes’ and ‘laundry’ settings. You must not have turned it all the way, so the machine created clean dishes. I’ll have to re-calibrate the gears behind the dial. Maybe set a ratcheting mechanism that locks it in.” He stepped back, and adjusted his glasses, tapping his foot in thought.
“Could… could we turn the dishes back into clothes then? If we switched it all the way to the laundry setting and put them in?” Remmy ventured.
“Possibly,” Gyro said, thinking of the coffee and cereal themed socks the All-Washer had produced that morning. “Best to test it on only one item.”
He tightened a few connections and replaced the front panel, then put the underwear-patterned mug into the machine and turned the dial all the way to the right, so it was firmly pointing to ‘Laundry’. All three of them stepped back, nervously watching the All-Washer swish and whir.
Suddenly, it stopped with a loud clunk.
“That’s not right.” Gyro cautiously approached it. He hadn’t touched it yet when the lid sprang open. A stream of underwear started to pour out onto the tiled floor. Most of them matched the boxers on the mug, but there were a few other articles mixed throughout.
“Wait, what?” said Remmy, dodging as a pair of fishnet tights shot from the machine directly at their face.
“I… how is this physically possible? Where is it getting the fabric? Why these designs?” Gyro reached out and caught a Victorian-style corset in mid-arc.
“Can you stop it?” Launchpad tried to gather the pile of underpants from the floor, but was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of fabric pouring from the machine.
“Right! I’ll probably just have to cut the power, and…” Gyro unplugged the machine from the wall outlet, but the rushing tide of undergarments did not ebb. Instead, the machine just began to vibrate wildly, jiggling out of Gyro’s grasp. It skittered across the floor, all three of them watching it, stunned. A pair of nylon pantyhose flew out, tangling around Gyro’s wrist. The floor was barely visible now under the pile. He ran for his tool kit, but the machine kept rumbling out of his reach. “I can’t fix it if I can’t stop it!”
“Sorry, G. I think we’ll have to crash it!” Launchpad said. Remmy nodded, and the two of them each grabbed one side of the All-Washer, hauling it towards the balcony door. Gyro stood by, feeling helpless. Both ducks were considerably stronger than he was, and if he couldn’t disable the all-washer any other way. He’d have to let them destroy it.
“On three?”
“Yeah. One, two, three, hup!” They pitched the buzzing machine over the balcony railing, then stood aside, panting.
“Sorry we had to do that, GG.” Launchpad put a hand on Gyro’s shoulder as he gazed despondently at the shattered remains of his invention on the pavement five stories below. Remmy appeared on his other side. A lacy pink brassiere was still hanging from their ear. Gyro stood there for a moment, then leaned in and allowed both of them to envelop him in a hug. Gyro was pretty sure he hadn’t been sandwiched between two friends like this since he was a young child. It was warm and comforting, sort of like a weighted blanket.
Launchpad finally broke the silence. “So… you wanna go out for pizza or something?”
Gyro looked around. He was, admittedly, hungry. And going out would mean no dishes to clean at home. They could find a way to get rid of all this underwear later.