Disclaimer: I don't own Darkwing Duck!

Title: There You'll Be

Summary: Growing up and growing older sucks. It doesn't help that Drake's been building an evil robot.

...

Honker slept best when his window was unlocked. Avian Way wasn't a very dangerous part of St. Canard, save for the odd hockey puck or baseball flung by the Mallard family, so it wasn't an uncommon practice. But, unlike others, he kept his window unlocked for one gosling in particular. That proved to be a wise idea one hot summer night.

Honker was a heavy sleeper, conditioned from years of Tank's snoring, so he didn't hear the window sliding up. He didn't catch when a shoe rested on the ledge, making it creak ominously. A quiet swear didn't even register. The figure quick lost her footing and fell into his room, landing with a thud and a groan, and that's when he woke up.

After years of helping superheroes, not much got to Honker anymore. He sat up and slipped his glasses on. "Gosalyn?"

Gosalyn, having fallen flat on her face, gave an unsteady thumbs up. "Howdy, Honk-man. Mind if I stay the night?"

"Did something happen?"

She rolled onto her rear. Even in the dark, Honker could see the dark stain on her jersey. "You could say that, yeah."

Honker slipped out of bed, helping her to her feet. Gosalyn, allowing herself a moment's weakness, leaned on his side. "How much of that is yours?"

"Pretty much all of it. You still got that med kit in the bathroom?"

"Yup."

She waved her hand. "Lead on, Macduff."

The med kit, ironically enough, had been a prize won at a Quackerware employee party. Apparently, there had once been a mix-up of deliveries, and from it came a limited addition kit. Herb proudly showed it off whenever they had quests over, between the book full of various baby photos and Binkie's garden. It included band-aids, rubbing alcohol, and a couple of rash ointments.

Well, it did, anyway. But that was before Gosalyn Mallard stumbled into their lives. Now, after patching up a cut along her side, there was just the ointment. It wasn't like they'd had reason to open it, so it had gone unnoticed for quite some time. Honker just prayed his father wouldn't be too disappointed when he found out his relic wasn't worth the five bucks it had once been.

"Sorry 'bout this," she finally gets around to saying, dragging her jersey under the warm water of the sink. A dab of dish soap and it was ready for the washer. "I fell on a pipe while dad was snarking out Megavolt, and you know how he gets." She shrugged. "S'just easier to come here."

Well, yeah, Honker thinks. Of course it's easier here. Her father isn't worried out of his mind here.

And he understands. He does. Mr. Mallard is a good enough man, but he's always been a worrywart when it came to Gosalyn, and whenever she got hurt it was like the next apocalypse had hit his spirits. He'd mope for days, wailing and raging about his uselessness, how a hero that couldn't protect his own kin wasn't a hero at all. Gosalyn would ultimately get better, and he'd ultimately get his confidence back. It was just the in-between that sucked.

Honker let out a long, sweeping sigh. "Alright. You can stay." She hadn't asked again yet, but they both knew it was a matter of time.

Something resembling a smile cut across her beak, sharp with leftover sting from the rubbing alcohol. "Thanks, Honk. You're a lifesaver."

That leads to them sprawling out on his bed, Gosalyn shoving herself into as tiny a corner as possible (an old instinct, drawing back to hiding the sensitive parts of herself) and Honker flat on his back, snoring. He woke up to the bright sunshine of noon, Gosalyn flopped across his chest, and Tank cackling as he takes a photo.

"Hiya, Tank," Honker says, with that defeated tone he reserved for his brother. "How much homework is it gonna cost me to get that from you?"

"You kidding?" Tank snorted. "I could get way more mileage of humiliation with it than without. Keep the homework."

That's not a good sign. "I'll give you money," he offered next, feeling panic rise in his chest.

"Tempting, but nah. This'll be plenty, thanks." His brother curtsied with a sadistic grin before heading out of the room. Honker can hear him thumping down the stairs. "Mom! Dad! Gosalyn and Honker are sleeping together!"

Honker winces at the phrasing. He knows Tank well enough to know it's intentional. Though he and his friend were only fifteen, it had been his brother's goal in life to hassle them endlessly about some nonexistent relationship, and now he had the circumstantial proof to start a rumor. As if they didn't already have enough of them, tagging along with Darkwing Duck. "Gosalyn, you might wanna get up."

Gosalyn responded by kicking his leg. Honker shook her until she reluctantly sat up. "This better be good."

"Tank took a photo of us sleeping."

"Creepy, but not good enough. I'mma go back to sleep now."

"He's showing it to my parents, Gosalyn."

"Uber creepy, but-"

"He's making it into a sexual thing, Gosalyn."

She finally cracked an eye. "That boy's fixin' to die." Gosalyn languidly stretched, flinching when her cut complained. She looked down at her shirt- which was actually his shirt, seeing how her's was bloody. "Oh, man. We're totally in for a talk, aren't we?"

"Probably."

"You have no idea how tempted I am to crawl back out the window rather than look Herb Muddlefoot in the eye and let him think I had sex with his son."

"Crawl? I'd jump if it wouldn't break my legs."

"Herb Muddlefoot Junior," Binkie said as she stepped into the laundry room. Honker startled, slamming his head into the dryer ceiling. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Drying." Honker straightened, rubbing the back of his skull. "Gosalyn's shirt got bloody."

"Did it, now?"

"Yeah. She fell on the gravel. Then she got all worried about Mr. Mallard getting overprotective, so she crawled in through my window."

Binkie raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever Tank told you was a lie. I swear."

The canary puffed out a sigh, squeezing past him so she could get to the washer. "Tanks always did have a big imagination," she replied. "Remember when he thought he saw the lettuce in the fridge moving?"

"So you believe me?"

"I believe both of you aren't quite saying what's on your mind." Binkie studied one of Herb's stained up work shirts with a grimace, shoving it in. "Y'know, when I was your age, my parents gave me quite a long talk about abstinence. Scared me half to death with talk of sin and other stuff."

"Mom," Honker groaned. "Please don't give me a long talk about abstinence."

"Oh, honey, I wouldn't do that to you. Your generation ain't nothin' like your father and I's." She gently patted his shoulder, unaware of how desperately Honker wanted to sink into the floor. "Don't be afraid to come to me with questions, okay? Or protection. Definitely gonna need some of that. Also, next time, could you wait 'till we're out of the house? It's just polite."

Honker slammed his forehead into the dryer, which was beginning to vibrate. "Why can't a guy and a girl have a sleepover without someone accusing us of doing- well, doing adult stuff?"

"Because people are nosy by nature, sweetie, and most of 'em like to tease."

"Thanks, mom."

"Anytime, sweetie. Now scat. I'm sure your girlfriend is missing you."

He found Gosalyn at the kitchen table, having an ironically familiar conversation with Herb between bites of cereal. "Oh, no, I believe ya', Gosarooni," he said, with an obnoxious wink to Honker. "I just wanted ya' to know that, no matter what does or doesn't happen, we see you as family. Ain't nothin' gonna change that."

Gosalyn's bored gaze swept over to him. "You think if I rip the band-aids off they'll get the hint?"

"Please don't," Honker pleaded, sitting down across from her. "We don't have a lot left."

"Honker, my boy!" Herb gushed. He laughed as he gave the teen's back a hardy smack. "The Drakster just called. He wants you to head over to his place after school."

Honker paled. "You didn't... tell him what Tank said, did you?"

His father shrugged. "I was so proud- got teared up on the phone and everythin'. How's I supposed to know it was a secret?"

"Nice knowing you, Honk." Gosalyn lifted her bowl to drain it of leftover milk, the hint of a smile on her face. "It's your turn."

Author's Note: Eyyy, my first official DW 'fic (that I'm posting, anyway. I did do a drabble some time back)

Methinks this is gonna be a three-parter. It's mostly just gonna be about Gosalyn and Honker hating that they're growing older and people making baseless assumptions about who they are and who they wanna be.

-Mandaree1