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"I still don't get why you decided to wear that of all things." Drake griped as he paced. "A Gizmo suit." The words left his mouth like he had just placed something disgusting and slimy on his tongue. "I can't believe you." He said, shaking his head. He couldn't even bear to look at the horrid sight of the bulky, white costume Launchpad wore.
The pilot, despite Drake's complaints all the way from the Con to here, was grinning. Today had just worked so well in his favor. From Phoenix Splatter mistaking him for the real Gizmo, to winning the cosplay contest...
Darkwing really was all riled up.
"Well, DW, if it bothers you that much," he said, cracking another smile as Drake's attention whipped toward him. "Just take it off of me~"
Darkwing narrowed his eyes. So that was it, was it? A game, an exhilarating thrill for his sidekick?
Fine.
He stepped over and reached out for Launchpad. No scarf, of course, so he hooked his fingers into the metal rim that surrounded Launchpad's neck, and brought him near.
"I will. I'll take that awful thing off you bit by bit..." He told him lowly.
With his other hand, Darkwing snatched off the obnoxious shutter shades from Launchpad's face.
Anticipation-filled brown eyes looked into serious ones.
Drake snapped the glasses in half. He'd wipe that eager look off of his face before long. The pieces clattered to the ground. Launchpad watched them fall.
Darkwing grabbed his jaw and brought his attention back on himself. "Then, I'm going to fuck you until my name's the only thing you can think of, Launchpad."