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“That felonious fiend is finished!” Darkwing Duck proudly announced watching St. Canard’s finest drag the fainted form of Steelbeak into the Police Transport Vehicle. Well, until F.O.W.L. busts him out again, Darkwing added silently. No matter! Whatever feeble attempt at world larceny Steelbeak cooks up is no match for the likes of Darkwing Duck!
Foiling Steelbeak’s future plans could wait. First, he just had to take care of the nick Steelbeak had dastardly dealt him before he managed to get the upper hand in the fight. Jeez that smarts. He pressed a hand to his right side, grimacing at the throb that originated from the wound. I ought to keep pressure on it, doesn’t seem too bad but Goslayn would sooner wring my neck than let me accidentally pass out from blood loss. He thought to himself, a faint smile on his face.
“DW! Great job out there,” Launchpad, his fateful sidekick and civilian partner commended as he walked over from where he’d been helping herd the remaining F.O.W.L. Eggmen into the police van. “I really thought ol’ Steelbeak was gonna take a chomp outta ya!”
Darkwing’s face flushed, thankfully hidden by his mask and hat, “Nonsense I had everything under control.” He boasted. His eyes flickered down to where his hand was pressed to his wound, obscured from Launchpad’s vision by the cape. Well, not everything. The masked duck opened his beak to inform Launchpad of his predicament when he quickly shut it and frowned.
Drake Mallard, Darkwing Duck or otherwise was always getting injured. It was just in his nature, his hands-on approach sometimes called for him getting walloped by a bad guy. But he always managed to bounce back! Usually that is. He recalled a particularly nasty encounter with Negaduck roughly six months ago that had resulted in a broken rib or two and the worst stomach laceration in his career. The nerve of that guy amirite? His frown deepened as he remembered the frantic and terrified expressions on his partner and daughter’s faces when they caught sight of him bloodied on the ground and gasping for air. Not to mention the particularly glum look of Gosalyn’s when she lied to the Muddlefoots claiming Drake had merely fallen off the ladder trying to do some repairs on the roof.
Drake didn’t necessarily want to make Launchpad and Gosalyn relive that again. He was pretty handy when it came to first aid, he’d taken care of worse on his own easily. No need to concern them. He’d just fix it up on his own no problem. The pain for the most part was fading anyway, so long as he didn’t jostle the wound, he’d be able to make it back to Darkwing Tower fine. His thought process was interrupted when a feathered hand waved in front of his face.
“DW? You good buddy? You kinda zoned out on me there.” Launchpad said with a chuckle, his forehead still wrinkled with concern. Darkwing shook his head to clear his thoughts, pushing down Launchpad’s arm away from his face.
“I’m alright, just beat after that fight. Crime fighting’s hard work.” DW said with a false yawn. He fished out the keys to the Ratcatcher from his pocket with his free hand, holding them out to Launchpad. “You mind driving back to the Tower? Don’t want me falling asleep at the wheel.”
Launchpad smiled, relieved it was merely exhaustion that had DW down, nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. He clasped Darkwing’s shoulder, giving him a pat and taking the keys. “Sure thing DW.” He replied, releasing his hand and walking towards the parked bike.
Darkwing Duck forced a cheerful grin onto his face, resisting the urge to wince as Launchpad’s accidental strength behind the pat jostled his injury. He always managed to forget how strong his partner was. The fake grin slipped off his face once LP had turned and focused on starting up the bike, he didn’t exactly trust himself behind the wheel while wounded. But Launchpad didn’t need to worry about that.
Launchpad sat down on the Ratcatcher, making sure his aviator hat was well secured, aware Gosalyn had already lectured DW about the safety of riding without any protection. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before finding the correct one and sliding it into the ignition. He started the engine, keeping the motorcycle in neutral until the engine warmed up and DW climbed into the sidecar.
His gaze flickered over to his partner as Darkwing removed his hat and secured the helmet to his head, noticeably using only one of his hands. LP frowned, he swore DW looked pale… Was it just the lighting from the streetlamps over their heads? Come to think of it DW didn’t often give up the keys to the Ratcatcher, he enjoyed driving it too much and complained the fairing shield in the sidecar didn’t stop his feathers from getting messed up by the wind. He shook his head attempting to dispel the thought from his head, he was just being a tad paranoid. DW was just tired, probably had a few bumps and bruises from the fight that could be fixed up just by taking it easy. When your husband makes a living putting St. Canard’s scariest scoundrels behind bars you tend to worry from time to time. Even if you were Launchpad “danger buff” Mcquack.
DW gingerly climbed into the sidecar, trying not to make his injury ache more than it already did. He looked up to Launchpad who met him with a warm smile, Darkwing after a moment’s hesitation returned it with one of his own. How Launchpad managed to improve his mood with merely a loving smile eluded him, but he found it always did. He wanted nothing more than to return home and curl up in his partner’s arms before the sun rose; but the last thing he needed was a wound like this getting infected and putting him out of commission for a few days.
The Ratcatcher rumbled to life as Launchpad shifted gears and sped towards the Audubon Bay Bridge. Darkwing looked at the streetlamps they passed with muted interest as he formulated an excuse that would permit him to slink off and take care of his laceration without Launchpad growing worried. Passing over a particularly large speed-bump caused DW to let out a hiss of pain as he was jostled, thankfully the roar of the engine muffled the noise to Launchpad.
Thanks to the Ratcatcher’s speed they arrived at Darkwing Tower in a matter of minutes. Launchpad killed the engine and hopped off the bike. With a light smile, he outstretched a hand to DW in a considerate gesture to help him step out of the sidecar. Darkwing scoffed at the chivalry, poorly hiding an amused smile as he took the hand and stood. Immediately after rising, spots danced across his field of vision and a dizzying sick feeling overtook him. Maybe he wasn’t as well off as he believed. Instinctively he clutched Launchpad’s hand tighter until his vision cleared, and the dizziness became manageable. It only took a moment to have it under control, but it was long enough for Launchpad’s face to become filled with concern.
“DW are you alright??” His partner asked worriedly, reaching his other arm out to support him and keep him from falling should Drake stumble. DW waved the arm off and released Launchpad’s hand.
“I’m fine, LP. Just stood up too fast. Don’t worry about it.” He reassured, stepping out of the sidecar, frowning at the worried expression that remained on LP’s face. “I’m okay, Launchpad.”
Launchpad seemed unconvinced, his brows furrowed but he nodded. “If you say so DW…” He mumbled, looking uneasily at his companion.
Drake felt a pang of guilt, this had been the exact opposite of his intentions. He loathed that worried and uncertain expression that he had brought to Launchpad’s face. Blasted blood loss botching up his attempt to ease his family’s fears! He removed his helmet, setting it down on the seat of the Ratcatcher. Drake feigned a smile, “Hey, at least my feathers managed to stay unruffled despite the wind.”
Launchpad let out an amused huff, “For the most part that is.” He said, smoothing down a stray feather sticking up on the side of Drake’s face, sporting a small smile.
Drake’s smile became more genuine, “That frustrating feather! What would I do without you?” He declared in a playful manner.
That earned a laugh out of Launchpad, “Okay, okay Mr. Dramatics let’s hurry up and get home. I’m beat.” LP replied, his smile having widened at Drake’s eccentrics.
Drake faltered for a moment before he regained his composure and remembered his fabricated explanation, “Yes of course. Why don’t you go on ahead? I oughta submit a report to S.H.U.S.H. about Steelbeak’s plans while they’re still fresh in my mind.”
Launchpad hesitated, “Gee DW, are you sure? That seems a bit above our paygrade. I thought you were tired?”
“Well it is but that stick in the mud Gryzlikoff would never let me hear the end of it if I learned something pertinent to the investigation and didn’t say anything. Crime never sleeps, and while I, Darkwing Duck, still require a few hours I can manage for a little longer!” Drake replied, itching to hurry this conversation along so he could take care of his injury. He swore his hand pressing the cloth of his costume to his side felt slick, maybe he was just clammy from nerves. Yeah, nerves, that was it.
The pilot sighed, “Okay DW, don’t work yourself too hard. I don’t mind waiting here while you finish up.” He said.
Drake gave him a weak smile, “Great. I’ll be done in a bit.” He responded, turning away and fully intending to retreat to one of the more isolated areas of the Tower to tend to his injury with one of the many med kits he’d stashed around. He didn’t get the chance, Launchpad placing a hand on Drake’s right side and giving him a quick peck on the beak. An endearing gesture of affection LP would do often, which DW had no qualms with and was in fact fond of. However, as luck would have it, Launchpad’s hand was on the wrong side.
He inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth to keep a yelp from escaping him as pain shot up his body. Blathering blatherskite that hurt. His whole form tensed in response to the sudden shock to his system. As much as Drake applauded himself for retaining his composure -tears threatening to spill aside- his acting wasn’t as good as he had hoped. Launchpad immediately released the gentle hold he had on him, not wanting to cause Drake any further pain. His expression was one of stunned dismay, concern soon overtaking it.
“DW! I’m so sorry- Are you okay??” Launchpad exclaimed in a flurry of words, continuing to apologize. He looked unsure of what to do, his first instinct was to hold onto his partner to provide comfort or support should Drake fall over. But he didn’t know what caused the sudden reaction in the first place.
Drake took a shuddering breath, attempting to smile which looked more like a weak grimace. “Y-Yeah I’m fine LP, just got some bruising there… took me by surprise.” He replied, a slight wheeze to his voice.
Launchpad narrowed his eyes, taking in Drake’s slightly hunched frame, the way he favored his left side, his right hand’s ‘mysterious’ lack of use, now that they weren’t relying on streetlights for visuals, he could properly see just how ashen Drake’s face looked. “Bullshit. DW you’re hurt. Let me see.”
Drake shook his head, “Really Launchpad its fine-“
“Let me see, DW.”
“It’s not a big deal!”
“DW-“
“You don’t need to worry, honest!”
“Drake. Please…” Let me see, I’m worried about you were the words left unspoken.
Whatever retort or excuse Drake planned to respond with died on his tongue upon seeing the look on Launchpad’s face and the quiet desperation in his voice. He let out a sigh, rubbing at his temples with his free hand. “Okay okay…” He relented, “Don’t freak out, it’s really not that bad.” Drake unclipped his cape, discarding it to the floor. He lifted the coat and turtleneck of his costume to reveal the wound.
His partner blanched upon looking, which did not reassure Drake in the slightest. “Not that bad’ my ass DW you need stitches!” Launchpad exclaimed upon seeing the injury, his eyes wide with disbelief.
For the first time since Steelbeak stabbed him, Drake got a good look at the wound for himself. If even possible, he managed to grow even paler. “Okay,” He started in a small voice, “It might be a bit worse than I thought.”
The incredulous yeah-no-shit look Launchpad gave him in any other situation would’ve been hilarious. Not so much this one. LP gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed at his face. He straightened and walked over to DW to get a better look for himself.
Despite DW’s instinctive reaction to brush off Launchpad and insist he’d take care of it, he let his partner examine the injury. The worried furrow in Launchpad’s brow didn’t seem like it was leaving his face any time soon.
“Might as well keep putting pressure on it while I get you situated and get the first aid kit.” His partner instructed with an expression that was soft with concern but unyielding to any protests Drake might voice. “Now stay still. I don’t wanna make this anymore painful.”
Drake complied and found himself being lifted, ever so gently by Launchpad; who seemed to be taking great lengths to avoid jostling his injury. Launchpad’s arms wrapped around him, careful to steer clear from wound. As much as Drake wanted to object to the treatment and claim how unnecessary it was, he couldn’t help but feel comforted in his partner’s warm and secure arms- not to mention it felt great to be off his feet. He found himself relaxing into Launchpad’s hold, resting his head on Launchpad’s chest. Maybe he was sleepier than he realized.
Drake blinked the tiredness out of his eyes, trying to keep himself alert as he was gingerly deposited onto the couch. They’d installed it in the Tower after Gosalyn complained a few too many times about there being no place for her to lounge while her Dads were on a case. Drake found his head resting on a throw pillow and laying across the full length of the couch. Before he had even registered his partner was gone, Launchpad reappeared with a first aid kit, a water bottle, and freshly washed hands.
Launchpad set down the supplies on the coffee table beside the couch, fumbling with the buttons on Drake’s coat. His masked partner lightly shooed his hand away, mumbling something about being able to do it himself. He unbuttoned his costume and lifted his turtleneck to remove any obstruction of the wound while Launchpad fished out the gauze.
Launchpad pressed the gauze against Drake’s side, taking notice of his husband’s grimace that followed. “So, you wanna tell me how this happened DW?” He prompted, wanting to keep Drake engaged while he slowed the bleeding.
Drake let out a frustrated huff, “Steelbeak just caught me off guard ‘s all… Honestly LP it’s not worth all this hubbub, we both know I’ve dealt and defeated worse.” He replied, not meeting his partner’s eyes. Sinister Steelbeak just had to be a huge spoilsport and cause all this trouble. His gaze flickered to LP’s hands over the gauze.
He recalled the scuffle they got into after Darkwing foiled the rooster’s plans while Launchpad dispatched the Eggmen nearby.
“You just have to ruin everything, dontcha Dipwing?”
“What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”
They exchanged some repartee which Steelbeak didn’t seem to be much in the mood for judging by the furious swinging of his knife he’d snatched from an Eggmen after Darkwing disarmed him of a laser gun. One misstep dodging sent him crashing to the floor with Steelbeak in tow. Next thing Darkwing Duck knew, he felt a knife being yanked free from where it had embedded in his side. Instinct resulting in him kicking a webbed foot directly into Steelbeak’s face. Shortly after the fight had turned in his favor, adrenaline and desperation probably playing a large factor. Thankfully Darkwing had experience fighting while injured.
Launchpad frowned as Drake averted his eyes, “ ‘Doesn’t matter, you should’ve said something…” With one hand still staunching the blood flow, he reached over and passed the water bottle to Drake along with the ibuprofen from the med kit.
Drake made a noncommittal grumbling noise but complied and took the ibuprofen, chasing it down with water. If LP was right about stitches, then he’d need the painkillers. They found themselves lapsing into silence, Launchpad slightly miffed and worried about his husband, and Drake struggling to find the words to explain his reasoning for hiding the injury.
A short while passes and Drake is snapped out of his thoughts as Launchpad gently removes his hands from Drake’s side. “Looks like you’ve stopped bleeding, lemme get out the Saline.” Launchpad said, turning to rummage through the med kit. Drake spared no expense when it came to medical supplies, every trip to the hospital was another risk to his identity so it was best for them to avoid it when possible. Not to mention a hefty medical bill S.H.U.S.H. wouldn’t be happy about paying.
As Launchpad searched, Drake tried again to explain himself. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it… It’s just that you shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff, LP. I’ve fixed up way worse by myself when I was solo.”
Launchpad’s shoulders drooped as he turned to look at his husband. “But DW, honey, you don’t have to do that anymore. You’re not solo, you have a family.” He spoke softly.
Drake felt his heart get lodged in his throat, his protests and excuses dying on his tongue. A family. Yeah, he sure did have one of those. Worries and all. Sometimes just hearing the words aloud was enough to make him stop in his tracks. “I- I know…” He replied, feeling just the least bit misty-eyed.
His partner’s face melted into a fond smile at Drake’s expression. “I know you know. Just lemme take care of you right now, okay?” At Drake’s nod he retrieved the Saline to clean the wound. His free hand he intertwined with Drake’s. “Squeeze as hard as you want to when it starts to hurt. I promise you’re not gonna bother me, I’ve arm wrestled with Scrooge Mcduck and that man has an iron grip.” Launchpad joked.
DW snorted, “Are you telling me that Scrooge Mcduck the cushy old billionaire is stronger than me, Darkwing Duck?”
“An injured Darkwing Duck, yes. Remember he used to be a pretty wild adventurer, though if you’re that keen to arm wrestle him be my guest. Now hold still this is gonna sting.” Launchpad instructed, struggling to keep a straight face at Drake’s antics.
Drake rolled his eyes with fond exasperation but complied and made sure to keep still. He was plenty familiar with the process of cleaning wounds, but he still appreciated the hand Launchpad offered him.
Launchpad got to work disinfecting the wound with his free hand. Drake kept still and silent, but his mouth pressed into a thin hard line from the effort. Saline did a little more than just sting with an injury like this but it was far better than the alternative of letting anything get infected. His hand unconsciously grasped Launchpad’s a little bit tighter.
Drake breathed a sigh of relief as Launchpad finished, relaxing his shoulders he’d instinctively tensed in as the pain faded. He released Launchpad’s hand and offered his husband a reassuring smile that was only a tad shaky. Launchpad of course returning it with one of his own. It was times like these where he had never felt more relieved that Launchpad knew so much about first aid. Being around Scrooge Mcduck and co. gives you plenty of medical experience in the field it seems.
He watched as Launchpad dug through the med kit yet again in search of sutures and other supplies needed to close the wound. Launchpad located the items he needs and quips something about organizing the med kits better, so they don’t have to dig around as much. Drake finds himself agreeing with a laugh. Thankfully the painkillers had already begun to kick in, so when Launchpad gets to work the pain is a manageable level. The wound isn’t as bad as Launchpad had initially thought now that the bleeding had stopped, DW would only need three sutures from the looks of it.
Drake lets them fall into a comfortable silence, not wanting to distract Launchpad from the task of stitching him back together. It’s not till Launchpad has started dressing the wound that he speaks again.
“…Thanks LP. I’m sorry for being such a pain. I should’ve told you from the beginning.”
Launchpad looked up from where he’d kneeled to bandage the injury, his beak curled into a soft smile. “Yeah, you should’ve. I’m not mad at ya though. How come you didn’t tell me you got hurt? We’ve taken care of each other’s injuries plenty of times.” He asked.
Drake sighed, his eyes downcast. “I was going to tell you, I just… Do you remember that fight with Negaduck six months back at that old sports warehouse?”
His partner made a face, “Yeesh, yeah how could I forget. Gos and I found you barely conscious with the wind knocked outta you on the ground. ‘Scared the hell outta us.” Launchpad said, continuing to tend to DW’s wound as he spoke.
“…Yeah, I had fallen off the catwalk.” Drake grimaced at the reminder, “Point being, as out of it as I was, I still was awake enough to see you guys walk in-“ He sucked in a breath, “-Seeing you and Gosalyn’s faces, how terrified you both looked, knowing I caused it- It wasn’t a great feeling. Then tonight with Steelbeak, I thought about that and how I hated to make you worry, and I just clammed up. I thought I’d just take care of it on my own and everything’d be fine.” His beak quirked into a rueful smile, “Although that obviously didn’t work out now did it.”
Launchpad had finished securing the bandages and cupped Drake’s face gently, a tender expression on his face. “I worry more when you don’t tell me DW. I’m your sidekick and your husband, I’m here to support you. You don’t have to hide anything from me okay?”
The mallard’s rueful smile became more genuine as he leaned into Launchpad’s touch, “I know. Trust me, I don’t plan on pulling a move like that ever again… I love you.” Drake replied, taking advantage of Launchpad’s close proximity and giving him a peck on the beak.
“I love you too.” Launchpad said with one of his beautifully bright smiles, “Now, how are you feeling?”
“A lot better, taking care of injuries is much more enjoyable when I have my stupendous sidekick to help.” Drake said, a mirthful gleam in his eyes seeing Launchpad’s grin in response to his alliteration. “Although now I’m tired for real this time.”
“We ought to get home then. I’m sure Gos is waiting on us.”
Drake raised an eyebrow, “This is way past Gosalyn’s bedtime, do you really think she’s up?”
Launchpad looked at Drake with an amused expression, “DW it’s the weekend. Of course, she’s up. Probably watching one of those late-night movies she likes so much.”
Drake rolled his eyes, hiding a fondly exasperated smile, “Fair point. I recant my previous statement, she’s definitely up. We should send her off to bed as soon as we get home… Although…. I suppose I could be persuaded into sharing some microwave popcorn and finishing the movie with her provided I get to spend time with my two favorite people in the world.” He mused aloud, pretending to really think it over.
Launchpad let out a laugh, “Consider it a deal. As long as she’s up that is.” He joked.
“LP, this is our daughter. She’s up.”
The duo rose, ready to head home after Launchpad cleaned up the leftover supplies and threw away the used gauze and surgical thread. His husband insisted upon carrying him to the chair set that would transport them home to 537 Avian Way, Drake in no way complaining. As “luck” would have it, Gosalyn was wide awake and delighted at the prospect of finishing the movie with popcorn, especially if it meant she wouldn’t be sent to bed early. The Mallard-Mcquack family found themselves curled up on the couch, a bag of popcorn in Gosalyn’s lap. Launchpad continued to ask her about what they had missed in the plot of the movie while on patrol. Meanwhile, Drake had fallen asleep shortly after sitting down, exhausted from the events of the night and feeling secure so close to his family. After the movie Launchpad planned to move Drake up to their actual bed, but for now DW seemed content to snore peacefully by Gosalyn and Launchpad.