Chapter Text
The sun was low in the sky as Drake's first trails of consciousness began to surface.
He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he could feel Launchpad's arms around him. The sheets were covering both of them. Hmm, he was so comfortable. Drake half-stifled a yawn and shifted closer to Launchpad, wanting to drag out the warmth and peace he felt right now.
Apparently, Launchpad had already woken up and felt Drake move, because he leaned in and placed a kiss on him. "Good morning," he told him cheerfully.
It was hushed, but it was enough to pull Drake completely out of sleep and he frowned. He didn't want to get up. "Morning," he mumbled back to Launchpad, nuzzling into his arm.
Drake felt Launchpad's fingers stroke his hair, and his ire with having to get up soon melted away. Just a while longer would be fine..
"...Are we going to stay in tonight?" Launchpad asked him.
Oh, that sounded nice… Drake nearly let himself drift off without even answering him.
...
Wait, but, no. That wasn't.. an option...
He opened an eye to peer at Launchpad. "...Launchpad, why would we stay in?" He asked sternly.
"Wellll," Launchpad began, "It's nice out, and given what today is, I'd like to spend time with you.”
Drake was looking at him fully now. “And what is today?” he asked.
“Valentine’s Day!” Launchpad told him, and framed his face as he leaned in. “Happy Valentine’s, D.W.”
Valentine’s Day… Darkwing let himself be kissed by Launchpad, and even returned it, but he was a little distracted by the topic at hand. Admittedly, the holiday had slipped his mind. The idea of spending it together sounded great, it really did! But…
When they pulled apart, Drake’s perplexed expression was clear.
“What is it?” Launchpad asked.
“Launchpad… Crime doesn’t take a break for romance, so… we can’t either.” he said.
“Oh.” Launchpad frowned. He had assumed his answer would be exactly that, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. It made its way to the tone of his response, and Darkwing felt guilt twist at him.
Before the hero could say anything though, Launchpad continued for a proper reply. “Yeah, you do have a point, D.W.. Crime fighting comes first. It’s always been like that.”
“Yeah…” Darkwing said, deep in thought. That was firmly set in stone since before he met Launchpad, and would continue to be as such until the day he was forced to give up being active.
So there was no reason to consider otherwise…
They continued to lay in their cozy cuddle for a few extra minutes, enjoying the warm atmosphere they provided to each other, without the risk of falling back to slumber.
“I’m going to start getting ready,” Launchpad told him after a while.
Darkwing nodded. “Can you put on a pot of coffee?”
“Will do.” Launchpad nodded, giving him a final kiss before tearing himself away from the embrace.
It wasn’t warm anymore. Very disappointing.
Drake followed the pilot’s trail as he left the room with a yawn and a stretch. He stayed by himself under the cover for a while longer.
Valentine’s Day… with Launchpad. He pulled the covers closer to himself, as if that would make the warm sense he got from that sentiment... smaller somehow.
It wasn’t a holiday he had celebrated often before.
Was there something he could do for him ?...
Before minutes could creep by into making him late, Drake made himself roll off the bed to start the day.
Evening has long stretched into night. On any other day, even the most high class restaurant would be winding down to a manageable crawl of customers coming in.
Tonight, there was a non-stop arrival of customers. The staff zipped back and forth as the place bustled with chatter and customers.
It was because of the buzz that nobody noticed the gang of five standing at the entrance for a few minutes before they moved to spread throughout the restaurant.
A couple of gunshots were fired into the air and everyone within the restaurant ducked and started to scramble in a frenzy.
“Nobody move!” The leader of the Mad Gang shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. The point of focus was that man, standing at the front entrance of the eatery. “Just play nice, and nobody gets hurt,” he chuckled.
Out in the skies above, the loud bangs of the gunfire was enough to attract the attention of the duo in the Thundercrack. Launchpad dipped the jet down so Darkwing can get a better look as to where it may have originated.
He scanned the area with laser focus, and spotted a crowd outside a building splitting apart from the sidewalk to dash from the place. Darkwing glanced at the name of the restaurant.
“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed, planting his hands against the window. Launchpad came to a sudden stop. “That’s a high class eatery. On a busy night, it’d be a perfect target to strike, especially this late!” Darkwing commented as he stood up in his seat. “We’ve got to act quickly, LP! Those gunshots means this is no joke.”
Launchpad nodded and pressed the button to let the glass dome of the ship open up.
“You stay up here, and keep your eagle eyes out for anything, Launchpad.” Darkwing ordered as he stepped up, “Let’s get dangerous.”
With that, Darkwing leapt out of the Thundercrack and towards the roof of the diner, his cape billowing behind him.
Launchpad shut the Thundercrack’s overhead and sped off to position the ship above the place in a way to keep watch on the surrounding area.
Meanwhile, Darkwing used his cape to slow his descent for an 8/10 landing on the rooftop. He landed into a roll toward a glass pane that overlooked the restaurant.
He quickly assessed the place. Five gang members in total. Three amongst the tables, one chatting and waving his gun around at the front entrance, and the biggest guy at the back, looking menacing.
The three in between were collecting personal belongings. Average heights. If they had weapons too, they were put away to hold the burlap sacks. That would buy Darkwing that much more extra time to subdue them.
He crouched closer to the glass. Time to make his entrance.
Purple smoke seeped in, and everyone, even the gang members, looked around to try and pinpoint where it was coming from.
"I am the terror that flaps in the night!... I am the lost gift package that you spent extra on for a speedy delivery. I am–!"
"Ugh, no," the leader of the Mad Gang griped, recognizing the figure standing atop a table occupied by a couple. "It's--"
"That's right! Darkwing!" The hero interrupted back. As if he was going to give a criminal the honor of introducing him. "Stand down, or face the stakes of committing crime!"
"I don't think so! You're outnumbered!" The gang leader told him, pointing the gun at him.
"Your choice." Darkwing ducked down and grabbed a plate of food from the table he stood on. It was steak, mashed potatoes and a mix of vegetables, which made it heavy enough to hurl at the Gang leader.
The plate connected with the gunman's hand, and the food splattered up along his arm and face. That was enough for a distraction.
Darkwing hopped off the table towards one of the collecting members, and gave him a swift kick. His biggest concerns were the gun-toting leader and the guy who outsized him… but he wasn't even worried.
The member he kicked gave a pained grunt, but managed to stay up and tried grabbing Darkwing.
The hero dodged the attempt and landed a punch on the assailant. He grabbed him, and noted that the girl had taken a few steps forward and aimed her own gun at him.
Darkwing swiveled to angle the gang member in front of him, then shoved him toward the girl. She hesitated a second too long, and the guy crashed into her, knocking the both of them down, and her gun fell out of her hand, sliding out of her view.
The third member tried to sneak up on Darkwing, but he could hear him charging from a mile away. Darkwing fluidly gripped his arm, and flipped the thief over with a solid thud on the floor.
He groaned in pain, and Darkwing grinned. Ha! Now all who's left is the big guy and the leader. Easy as pie--
Darkwing had begun to turn, but ran into the big guy himself. He grinned sheepishly. "Um-"
He didn't even get a chance to make a comment. The brute flung him back, straight onto a table, causing the entire setup to be knocked over. The people at that table scrambled up, fearful of being caught in the crossfire.
Darkwing pushed himself up, shaking his head to pull himself out of his daze, and fixed his hat as he glared up at the guy.
The masked man stood up, grabbing the stained tablecloth as he did. He swept it up and over the larger man as he started to loom towards him. Blinded and starting to struggle, Darkwing checked his surroundings, and decided that the best course of action was right on top of him.
Taking out his grappling hook, he aimed to the ceiling and shot at the hanging chandelier. The metal prongs caught the top, and then Darkwing yanked it hard. The chandelier tilted and the metal link broke.
The big guy managed to pull the tablecloth off of himself and the anger in his eyes was immeasurable. That's when the chandelier made its big impact.
Glass shards sprang up and flew every which way. Darkwing covered his face by bringing his cape up.
The hulking gang member collapsed heavily under it with a cut-off outcry.
Four down, one to go.
There was a sudden scrambling and Darkwing tensed up before realizing that two gang members were scuttling out the main entrance of the restaurant.
"Hey!" The leader shouted in outrage. He shook a fist after them. "Cowards!"
Darkwing smirked. He could hear that there were sirens in the distance, so they must have decided bailing was their best option. Unfortunately for them, there was no doubt Launchpad would be quick to pursue those two chumps.
He was about to boast as much to the gang leader, when he felt a sudden cold impact on him, and felt wetness seep through his coat and hair.
"What the…?" He muttered, feeling his dampened arm with distaste. His look snapped over to the gal who had been knocked down.
She looked ready to fight, with a near-empty vase at hand. She may have lost her gun, but she was far from finished!
"Hey, you low-life!" Darkwing complained. "This suit is dry-clean for a reason!"
She didn’t give him a response, and instead flipped the heavy vase over to try and strike Darkwing.
Darkwing was stepping back to avoid the heavy swings. She wasn’t letting up, but the movements were amateurish, and in turn, predictable. On one swing, Darkwing caught her wrist tightly to stop her attempts.
He felt a dollop of triumph before she raised her other hand and shoved a couple of roses into his face.
There were thorns on them, and they dug painfully against his skin. Darkwing stepped back with a short cry, but stopped himself before he got too far from her, then bent down to perform a leg sweep.
There was contact! He heard her fall with an “ow!” and opened his eyes with slight pain. He glanced at and lifted a bottle from a nearby table, and hurled it at the sitting thief. It hit her dead-center on her head, and she fell back.
He took a brief second to feel the damage done. Nothing major, and the fabric of his mask had protected potential injuries to his eyes. Good.
Lastly, there was the leader. Darkwing’s focus squared in on him. He was scowling.
The hero stood not that far from him, so he began to dart toward him to finally finish this off.
The gang leader may have had a weapon, but he didn’t want to risk Darkwing getting near him, especially after witnessing him taking down the four of his allies single-handedly. So he grabbed a nearby woman and held her at gunpoint.
“Stop right there!” he commanded.
Darkwing stopped in his tracks, glowering. With the hostage, his options were limited. As amazing as he was, he wouldn’t be able to make it to her in time if the criminal shot.
There was his trusty omnigun, but the gas would spread too slowly for the woman's safety. Not to mention all the patrons who would get affected by it, and complain about headaches, dizziness, and nausea later… Ingrates.
As he was contemplating this complex conundrum, the conman made the costly mistake of pointing his gun at Darkwing to threaten him with a smug grin.
The only leverage he had was gone.
Quick as a flash, Darkwing dove to the side, taking out his grappling hook again as he rolled to a kneel. He aimed and fired it at the crook.
The propelled force of the hook walloped him painfully in the face.
"Fuck!" The man exclaimed, stumbling back and letting the hostage go in the process. He had a hand lifted to clutch at his injury, which Darkwing took full advantage of.
He raced over to the guy and twisted his arm to wrench the gun away from him, all the while forcing him to the ground.
The gunman struggled, huffing and straining to try and get Darkwing off of him. However, he finally noticed the flashing lights flooding in through the window. The gang leader saw it, and stopped struggling. The cops were here. It was over. What an embarrassing loss.
The cops filled in, surveying the damage and scoping out who they should arrest.
"We'll take it from here, Darkwing." One of them said, kneeling down to handcuff the one he held down.
Darkwing stood up with a curt nod. "There's two others who fled the scene, but my partner's in pursuit. When he catches them, he’ll take them straight to you." He informed.
The cop thanked him for that intel and they all went on with escorting the Mad Gang members out to the cars. The crowd's buzzing was nothing but background noise to him as he idly brushed himself off. Now, all he had to do was wait until Launchpad actually arrived.
“It really takes a special kind of person to risk themselves like that!" A voice came to him suddenly. It was paired with a hearty slap on his back.
Finally, a proper thank you!
Darkwing smiled at that and turned to face the man who greeted. He was dressed in a chef's outfit, which made it easy to deduce what his job here was.
"Oh, well it was nothing," he boasted. "Yup, just my average night."
"Average to you, but it does mean a lot to me!" The cook insisted. "My name is Walter, the owner of this restaurant. Thanks a million, Darkwing! With tonight's profit, we would have lost a lot if you didn't come around."
The caped hero chuckled lightly. "That's what I'm here for! Looking good and saving the night."
"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" The chef asked. "Anything at all, my friend, I insist! It's the least I can do."
“No, really, it's alright, I…" he trailed off. He hadn't noticed before, but the small reminders of what day it was surrounded him.
Red napkins, roses, the expected higher profits, and couples taking up the majority of the customers...
"Actually…" he started up again, musing over a few possibilities. He and Launchpad still had the rest of the night to work through, of course, but that didn't mean they would never celebrate today. He made a spur of the moment decision. "Can I get two plates, to-go?"
The chef laughed. All that excitement and just two plates! “Of course you can!” He looked around before spotting a young worker standing stiffly at the host’s podium. He was distracted, and looking, wide-eyed.
“Ruben!” Walter called, and the waiter jumped, highly startled. “Get this man a menu!”
Ruben sputtered for a few seconds. “...What?! You mean I’m still working after all that!?”
“Eh, well –” Walter seemed surprised. “It’s for the hero who just saved the place! Of course I’m going to personally make his order!”
Ruben frowned, and snatched a menu from the stand before stomping his way over to Darkwing and Walter.
“Here you go,” he grumbled, holding out the gold-inscribed menu.
“Thank you,” Darkwing said as he took it. Given the teen's scare, he decided it would be best to shrug off the grumpiness exuding from him. He opened up the menu and began to look over the options.
Ooh, steak. He was sold on that. It may have been due to that brief, delicious waft from that plate he threw earlier.
"You know, Mom was right." Ruben piped up. "You care more about this place than anybody else."
“What’s with you all of a sudden?! Tonight has nothing to do with that.” Walter said sternly.
Darkwing awkwardly kept his gaze on the menu. Umm, what would Launchpad like? No doubt he would take a bigger portion… Despite his efforts, it was hard to focus on what sides there were while Walter and Ruben were starting to raise their voices.
“What’s with me? Maybe the fact that I could have gotten shot today! And I bet you were going to tell me to sweep up the broken glass too!”
“But you didn’t get shot, because this man saved the place! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Don’t we mean anything to you?!” Ruben shot back.
It felt like he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but both of them were unashamed over arguing here, in front of everyone. Darkwing let his eyes flit up to the two before dropping it back down to stare at the menu.
Oh, God. Now they were arguing in French, and he couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse. At least, it was easier to keep his gaze on the menu and decide on the plates for himself and Launchpad when he couldn’t understand them.
After around a minute, Ruben let out a frustrated scoff and stomped off to somewhere else in the restaurant.
Walter glared after him before turning back to the hero. “So, do you know what you want now, Darkwing?” he sighed out.
“Um… yeah,” Darkwing gave a sheepish grin as he closed the dark red menu, and gave it to the owner. Walter produced a notepad and a pen, ready to jot down his order.
“I’ll take one of the steaks, with stuffed mushrooms and loaded mashed potatoes.” The owner jotted down Darkwing’s order as he went along. “For the second plate, two steaks with extra french fries and mixed vegetables.” Launchpad… was a really big eater, but that didn’t mean he’d get away with eating only junk on his watch. “Medium rare for all of them.” he finished.
“So that’s all you’d like?” Walter asked.
"Yeah…" Darkwing said. He wondered if he should give a word of.. comfort towards Walter over that outburst. “So…” he started. “About that exchange…”
"Don't worry about it," Walter shrugged his attempt off. "Personal issues should be kept personal. I don’t know why he brought it up in front of everyone.”
“If you say so...” Darkwing muttered doubtfully.
“Don’t sweat over that another second, Darkwing.” Walter assured. “I'll go whip up your order with care!”
“Thanks..!” The hero responded, waving as Walter departed. He dropped the menu off at the stand and soon disappeared into the kitchen.
Darkwing remained standing for a while. He looked around and noticed a couple of the restaurant’s patrons looking at him. He stared back and gave a small awkward wave before opting to sit down to wait for the order.
He looked toward the restaurant window. A free meal for the two of them! And a nice one at that. While making the streets of St. Canard safer was the real reward, there wasn’t any harm done over indulging in a few prizes of substance.
Darkwing was happy with himself, until he recalled the disappointment-laced tone Launchpad had given when he had reminded him about their jobs. It’s not like he didn’t care for his sidekick…
Ugh, but now he felt like this freebie from a restaurant owner wasn’t a grand enough gesture. Not if it came from Darkwing himself! Launchpad deserved more, and Darkwing could provide a more thoughtful gift!
…But how?
The midnight hero hummed in thought as he leaned forward and rested his chin in his fist. He grimaced. The shift made him all too aware of the wet sleeve again.
He leaned back, unclasping his cape and placing it on the table. Then he started to unbutton his jacket to take it off. It had even slightly seeped through to his long-sleeved shirt. He glared down at the damp spot.
Darkwing gazed back up at the table and noticed its arrangement. He could make a spectacular presentation, given the chance. A special gift, lovely decoration… Darkwing could practically see it now.
This was an on-the-fly plan, but since when hasn’t he winged everything? All he had to do was keep this secret for the night. That wasn't difficult at all. He's kept his identity all these years, hasn't he?
After roughly fifteen minutes (although to Darkwing, it felt like it was a lot, lot longer), Walter returned and handed him two containers stuffed to the brim, with a third bowl on top. Clearly, he didn’t skimp out anywhere.
“Here you go, Darkwing,” Walter grinned at him as he held out the balanced plates. I decided to throw in a serving of French onion soup too!"
“Thanks!” The hero said brightly, grabbing the stack. It would be more difficult, but that addition was too good to pass up.
“I should be thanking you over and over,” Walter said.
Darkwing smiled. He thumbed the side of the plates, and cleared his throat. He had to comment on it. “Look, Walter.. I only heard… about half of the conversation, and know even less about the full story… but if your son has some basis, maybe you should try talking things out with your wife. Compromise is what makes a relationship. I’ve experienced that with my own family all the time.”
“..Well,” Walter sighed after a brief second, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll…try.”
Darkwing nodded. Then, he looked behind him at the sound of the jet coming to a stop above the restaurant again. “And there’s my ride! I’m setting out.”
He wrapped his cape and jacket around the plates. Hopefully it looked like a believable bundle of only fabric. He started to head towards the exit.
Walter called out after him one last time. “By the way! Feel free to come by here anytime you want, Darkwing!”
‘Oooh.’ Darkwing thought, ‘I'm definitely taking him up on that offer.’
Outwardly, he just held up a hand in agreement as he headed toward the front entrance.
He walked out into the night. The blue and red lights were still flooding the streets, and the present light chatter quieted a bit. He felt the hateful stares of the arrested members on him. He came to a stop, and turned to give them an unimpressed look.
The Thundercrack was directly overhead. He took out his grappling hook, aimed up and shot to the airship. It latched on, and he pulled himself halfway up.
Launchpad looked down and saw that Darkwing had done so. Oh, he wanted a grand exit, huh? The pilot chuckled to himself. He had him covered.
The Thundercrack flew a little ways down the street, made a turn, and sped off at an impressive, yet safe, speed. Darkwing looked down on the crowd below as they passed over them.
Several folks looked up at him, and a couple of them waved. Darkwing grinned, and looked out at the cityscape. The clamor and police lights slowly trailed behind them. The wind ran through his hair, and he took in the sight of the glows from the building lights all around them.
…Okay, and now it nipped at his cheeks and made his eyes feel dry.
Darkwing raised himself to the front of the jet, and climbed onto the hood to kneel carefully. Launchpad didn’t notice him right away, so Drake banged on the glass. The pilot looked over at him and beamed.
“Launchpad! Open the hatch!” Darkwing yelled, though it was for naught, Launchpad couldn’t hear him. Still, the jet slowed down even more.
The glass opened, and Darkwing immediately heard Launchpad’s laughter ring about as he hopped in.
“D.W.! You’re naked!” he joked, looking over him as he headed to the back seat. The overhead closed above them, and Launchpad continued to let the ship cruise, “What happened to your outfit?”
Just recalling the event filled him with annoyance. “One of the thieves down there splashed me with a vase full of water. Can you believe that?” He scoffed. He crouched down, placing his bundle of fabric beside him and subtly peering back at Launchpad to make sure he had his eyes forward. Thankfully, he did for now.
“The nerve! Did they know it’s dry-clean only?” the pilot said.
“That’s exactly what I told her!” Darkwing huffed, sliding open the drawer in the back.
He carefully separated his cape from his jacket and folded it. Then, he grabbed both of the plates and deposited them inside. He quickly covered it with his cape, and then placed his haphazardly folded jacket inside when the aroma started to spread in the closed space.
“Uh, some people just have no manners,” Darkwing continued, shutting the drawer hastily. “Petty crooks, especially!” He stood up and walked to the front again.
“Yeah…” Launchpad sounded confused and looked over at Drake, who casually sat down in his seat.
Had Launchpad gotten the scent of it? Darkwing hoped not. The surprise would be short-lived before he even got a chance to figure out how he would pull off the rest!
“...What?” was all he said, turning to the pilot.
“Do you–?” Launchpad peered closer at Darkwing and gave a short concerned gasp. “D.W.!”
“Hm?” he asked innocently.
Launchpad reached a hand over to him. Darkwing felt his knuckles carefully graze the side of his face, over the cuts he had gotten. Oh, yeah. Those.
“What exactly happened down there?” Launchpad asked after a few seconds.
“It was the same one who doused my suit! She was a handful.” Darkwing complained genuinely.
“Sounds like she was,” Launchpad replied. “...Say, don’t you think we should take a small break to rest up?”
“Exactly what I was thinking, LP!” Darkwing reclined back against the passenger seat and pointed upwards. “To the Tower! I really need a second set of clothes.”
“On it, D.W.!” Launchpad changed course and headed back for the bridge instead. He drove at a more liberal speed.
‘Truly a terrific turnout,’ Darkwing thought. ‘This way, I can properly put away the food. I don’t want Launchpad discovering it yet.'
“While we’re at it,” Launchpad piped up. “I can see to those cuts of yours!”
“What? That’s not necessary.” Darkwing tilted his head.
“Oh, yes it is,” Launchpad said. “Any open wound is dangerous and you know it! Besides, it’ll be quick.”
“Hmgh. If you insist on wasting time.” Darkwing grumbled, looking out the window. “It was just from flowers.”
“Well, bugs climb all over flowers before they’re sold. What if it wasn’t clean?”
“...You weren’t there. It was a clean restaurant. The cleanest I’ve ever seen! Of course the flowers were also clean.” Darkwing said.
Launchpad lightly chuckled again. “Okay, but maybe that thief wasn’t, so we should touch you up just in case.”
Darkwing guessed he couldn’t argue with that. Who knows where the Mad Gang have stepped foot in? Criminals.
It wasn’t long after they arrived at their Tower. The Thundercrack plunged into the ocean to go for the secret entrance, and everything was inky black on the inside. Darkwing’s mind was buzzing about the surprise, and well, what else he could do for Launchpad!
He couldn’t wait until his improvised plans would come to fruition… but one step at a time…