Notes:
I've been hemming and hawing all day about whether I wanted to post this. I'm still not sure, but it's gotten to the point where my dithering is bugging me.
Fairest is finished-I'll have the last couple chapters up within the next few weeks. Synthesis is as finished as it's going to get. That leaves Dragonburg and Night of the Hunter. So, I might continue this. Depends on the reception, I guess.
This was based off a dream I had a while ago. I can't remember if the dream had detailed sex, but it squicked me out to consider writing it, so it's painted over here. Darkwing Duck is my childhood, man. I'm gonna avoid graphic depictions of sex in this fandom.
He'd lost Gosalyn. Through sheer bad luck and lack of vigilance, he'd lost his little girl. He'd blamed himself for the longest time until he'd snapped back into crime fighting with a vengeance. It was the only thing that gave him succor after losing her. True, his life still felt empty and he'd banished Launchpad, fearful that anything that might make him happy was wrong. Yes, he'd hurt Launchpad when he'd cast him aside, but he rationalized it by saying that Launchpad had deserved it for failing him.
Right now, he was bent over modifications to his Darkwarrior costume. He hadn't heard the door open and was startled, holding a welding torch, as Launchpad entered.
"I should've changed the locks," he snarled. "What do you want?"
"DW, we need to talk," Launchpad said. Darkwing ignored the way his heart pitter-pattered around him. Before he'd broken things off, he'd realized he'd had feelings for his sidekick. Losing Gosalyn had changed everything. It meant he had no time to be selfish. And chasing love was selfish.
"There's nothing to talk about," he spat. "Why didn't my robots let me know you were here?"
"I, uh, might've wrecked them on the way in," he admitted. "Please, DW."
"You have five minutes," he snarled. "Better make this good, LP. I have a patrol coming up at five in the morning and then another at ten a.m."
"Don't you think you're stretching yourself a little thin?" he asked, and his brow wrinkled in concern. Again, Darkwing's heart pounded and he self-consciously licked the inside of his beak.
"If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," he spat.
"You did," he pointed out. "You're not throwing me out right away."
He put a hand on Darkwing's shoulder and Darkwing froze.
"Did I say you could touch me?" he growled. To his regret, Launchpad took his hand off his shoulder and the warmth that had blossomed through him died. Part of him chastised him for shoving him aside when he so clearly wanted his companionship. Yes, he'd had Morgana, but that was different. He'd always felt attracted to Launchpad. Morgana hadn't understood this, anyway. She'd left him as soon as he'd changed. Yet Launchpad had come back.
"Sorry, DW. Won't make that mistake again," Launchpad said.
"Wait," he said. "I'm probably going to regret this, but…I'll grab a chair."
He snagged a chair from his office and plunked it down in front of Launchpad. The welding torch he likewise deposited on a nearby table. His former sidekick sat and Darkwing gritted his teeth. Now that Launchpad was here, in front of him, it was harder to get rid of him. He didn't want to, either. He wanted him to stay and to talk to him.
"Have you taken any time for yourself since Gosalyn vanished?" Launchpad asked. "You're wound up kinda tight."
"No, I haven't. Crime doesn't sleep and neither do I!" he proclaimed.
"That's dangerous," he remarked, shaking his head. Darkwing grabbed a stool and sat in front of him. He had a tough time meeting Launchpad's eyes.
"Are you forgetting my motto?" he asked, testy.
"It's dangerous for you," he protested. "I wouldn't want to see anything happen to you, DW."
He was touched, and his heart lurched. He inched the stool closer to Launchpad. His beak twitched, and he leaned forward. Heart hammering in his rib cage, he resisted the impulse to grab Launchpad's hands.
"Crime is more important than me," he huffed.
"If something happens to you, you're not going to be able to fight crime," he pointed out. Launchpad moved closer too and Darkwing closed his eyes. It felt like the moment was poignant, heavy with possibility, and he was loath to change things. He wanted whatever was coming, no matter how selfish that made him.
"Are you telling me that you care?" he countered. "Even after I threw you out of our house?"
"Our house," Launchpad continued. "You still consider it belonging to both of us."
"I don't live there anymore," he said, waving it off. It was easier to talk to him without looking at him. True, he was taking the coward's way out, but he couldn't think of another way to handle this.
"I know. You live here."
The words fell heavy between them and Darkwing swallowed hard.
"It's better for my crime fighting to live here," he countered.
"But what's better for you?" Launchpad pressed. "You can't tell me you're happy like this."
"Yes, I am," he said and glowered at him. He defied him to contradict him. Launchpad was studying him and Darkwing's knees nudged Launchpad's. Butterflies erupted in Darkwing's stomach and his heart pounded harder. It felt like it was about to burst through his chest.
"If you're so happy, then how come I never see you as anything but Darkwarrior Duck?" he countered. "You're never yourself anymore."
"This is me," he said, stretching his arms to encompass the entire tower. "If you don't like it, you can leave."
Yet even as he said it, he didn't want him to go. Launchpad rose and Darkwing did too, pushing him back down. His hands lingered on his shoulders and warmth spread throughout his body again. The way they were positioned, Darkwing was looking down at his former companion. His mouth had gone dry.
"If you want me to go so much, why are you holding me in place?" he pointed out.
"Because, LP, it'd be selfish to make you stay," he said. How did his beak and mouth get so dry all of a sudden?
"What's wrong with taking time out for yourself?" he asked. "You could use a good long nap and some time to yourself."
"Crime doesn't sleep—" he started, and Launchpad put his hands on Darkwing's.
He told himself that if he did this once, he'd get it out of his system. Once it was out of his system, he could return to crime fighting and not have to worry about it again. He leaned down and kissed Launchpad. The other duck was startled, probably because it'd come out of nowhere, and Darkwing withdrew, satisfied that since Launchpad hadn't reciprocated, it was a wasted gesture.
At least, he was until the other duck pulled him half into his lap and kissed him back. Darkwing ended up with his arms draped around his neck. Damn it, this was not how it was supposed to happen. But…he'd missed affection so much since he'd lost Gosalyn. He'd missed someone caring about him.
Launchpad broke off the kiss and he and Darkwing panted, foreheads pressed together.
"Launchpad, this may be a very bad idea," Darkwing commented and then pulled him in for another kiss.
"So, does he have a weakness?" Bushroot asked. Megavolt and Quackerjack had gone off on their own; no one had seen hide nor hair of them (or feather) for a year now.
"Hang on…" Negaduck said. He magnified the tower in his binoculars and saw Darkwing Duck and Launchpad kissing as if their lives depended on it. While he could say he was a little surprised, he was mostly amused. He should've known Morgana was a front. She hadn't cared enough to stay through Darkwing's new insanity.
"Oh, yes," Negaduck said and grinned. "I'd say he does. A pretty big one, if I do say so myself."
"Then tell us what it is!" Liquidator snapped.
"Let's just say that his tastes have run afowl…" Negaduck said and handed the binoculars over to Bushroot. Bushroot's eyes widened.
"Birds of a feather flock together and all that," Negaduck said, his eyes alight with malice and cruelty. "This should be fun."
Bushroot handed the binoculars to Liquidator. The liquid dog stared in bewilderment. Negaduck wasn't sure whether Darkwing's activities had evolved beyond kissing, although he'd seemed pretty content with that for the meanwhile. If Negaduck had had a heart, it might've warmed the cockles of it. He didn't, and it didn't.
All he knew was that if Darkwing had any sources of happiness, then it was up to Negaduck to destroy them once and for all.
"Man, your bedroom's kinda crowded," Launchpad commented. "And dark."
"I don't do a lot of sleeping, remember?" he countered. "I don't need it to be pristine."
There was, however, enough room for both of them, albeit less room than might've been comfortable if they were lying side by side. Darkwing pushed aside some clothes and resumed kissing Launchpad, even if he was a tiny bit annoyed at LP's critique of his living quarters. He was too hungry for affection, starved in fact, to quibble right now.
Plus, his libido was up. Launchpad hugged him to him and DW threw away the goggles and pilot hat that his companion always seemed to wear. Darkwing was wriggling against him now, desperate for air but not wanting to break the connection between them. It felt like warmth and electricity blossomed wherever they touched.
"You know, you need to breathe eventually," Launchpad teased, panting when they broke off again. He nuzzled Darkwing's cheek and Darkwing panted too, aware they were both aroused now. To hell with it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
"Does this mean I can move back in?" he asked when they'd broken off a third time. Their hands were wandering, too, and Darkwing was having a tough time focusing on the conversation. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten laid. Years ago, in the very least.
"Fine, fine," he said, waving it off. "You can move back in. Just don't stop…"
A few hours later, entangled up in each other, Darkwing fell into the first good sleep he'd had since Gosalyn had disappeared. Launchpad stared down at him; even in his sleep, he was hugging him to his chest. True, DW had been rather arrogant and selfish in bed, which was pretty much what Launchpad had expected. But…he'd still been tender and affectionate. Launchpad felt a brief flash of jealousy over him being with Morgana, but that was over now.
"I love you, DW," he whispered and stroked his head feathers.
There was no response but somehow, Launchpad thought he'd gotten the message.