Much Ado About Negawing: The Only People I Need (Epilogue) - Darkwing Duck (1991)
A/N: Posting a day early cause idk if I'll have time tomorrow or not.
Negaduck lets out a noise of satisfaction as he hangs up the last ornament. These skulls and mini-chainsaws provide a wonderful contrast to the rest of the décor, which the villain could care less about. Too much red, green, and white— and not enough black.
And these little glowing lights are an eyesore.
Still, at least he was put in charge of decorating the tree this year. He'd like to see the Muddlefoots top this work of art!Negaduck dusts his hands off, admiring his handywork. That mace decoration he added at the very top of the tree really brings it all together.
He feels a pair of arms wrap around his middle, and a beak pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
"Looking good, Negs!" And then an awkward pause. "Those aren't real skulls, are they?" Given the guy also has a headrest on his motorcycle that was made from the skull of his first enemy, he probably shouldn't be surprised if they are…
"It's probably better if you don't know," Negaduck answers, pulling away and then turning around before settling his hands on Drake's shoulders, before letting them slide down to tangle with the other duck's hands. Three years. Three years, and he still can't quite believe it. He's living with the duck he… has a very strong attachment to.
So are his Gosalyn and Launchpad, after about a month ago, they were able to open a new portal to the Negaverse using an interdimensional device Gyro Gearloose built called the "Portalizer." Lyn still uses it on occasion to go visit her other "Dads," the "Darkwing's Ducks" for a few days. Sometimes the rest of the family would go too— the first time they visited, Drake was impressed with how Nega-St. Canard looks now.
Negaduck is just glad to have his Gosalyn and his Launchpad back into his life— not that he would ever admit it, of course. He'd rather jump off a cliff. "So, how are Lyn and Morgana doing in the kitchen?"
Drake's face scrunches at the reminder. Lyn and Morgana are handling the food tonight, and he's not really looking forward to when that food is done— especially considering he'll probably spend ninety-five percent of the time puking his guts out in the bathroom.
"Well, so far the food hasn't turned evil and destroyed the house," Drake answers, grimacing. "So I guess they're doing fine." His voice lowers to a mumble as he adds, "I can't say the same about my appetite."
Negaduck snorts, letting go of the other's hands and snaking his arm around Drake's shoulder. "Maybe if you ate her food more often, you wouldn't gag every time someone says 'Ghoul-Aid.'" As if to emphasise Negaduck's point, the other duck gags at the mention of the stuff.
Drake glares at his significant other, who sends him a "See what I mean?" look. "You know how I feel about the 'Fried Slug Snuckles' and those 'Marinated Slime Worms—'" The mallard gags again, whipping his hands up to cover his beak. His face starts to turn a yellowish green, and a cloud of dust takes his place. Less than a second later, Drake is relieving his stomach somewhere in the hallway.
Negaduck crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. "He talked himself into that one. As usual."
. . . .
"How about… Lenny?"
"Absolutely not."
"Tesla?"
"Still no."
"Beck?"
"… Also no."
"Got it…" Launchpad crosses out the name with a red marker, and then turns his gaze back onto his interdimensional double, who's busy setting up the table in the backyard. "How about Jim?"
Nega-Launchpad sends the other deadpan look as he spreads the spider embroidered tablecloth Morgana had picked out across the wooden surface.
"Alright, so that's a no." Launchpad crosses that one off too. "How about—?"
"Just call me Terry."
"Okay…" Launchpad waits for an explanation, but "Terry" doesn't seem to be interested in saying anything more on the matter. Instead, he seems intently focused on setting up the candles.
After a long moment, Launchpad just shrugs, and gets to work on putting out the plates and bowls.
. . . .
Morgana watches as Lyn pulls out her first "Adam's Apple Pie" out of the oven and set it on the counter. A smile of approval spreads over the taller duck's beak as she looks it over. "Ohh, it looks perfect! And on your first try, too!"
"Thanks, Aunt Morgana." Lyn looks away shyly.
"Keen gear!" Gosalyn exclaims from her spot on the counter. She swings her legs a little as she admires the pie. "It's even better than my first try!"
"What happened with yours?" Lyn asks, tilting her head towards her sister.
"It… sort of… turned evil and destroyed the house," Gosalyn tells her, offering a sheepish smile. "And it tried to raise an army of sentient pies to take over the world and take revenge on all bakers…" Morgana's smile widens a little as she leans back against the wall with her arms crossed, listening as Gos goes into further detail about that crazy night.
"So Dad saved the day by sneaking into the evil pies' base of operations and zapping them with Doctor Bellum's Whoopie-Ray… while disguised as a pie himself?" Lyn asks, bewilderment spreading across her features.
"Yup!" Gos answers, a wide grin on her face.
A grin breaks out across Lyn's beak. "That's so cool!"
Gosalyn snaps her fingers. "Hey, you wanna see the security footage? I've got the tape lying around—"
Morgana frowns. "Security footage? Tape?"
Gos chuckles nervously, scooting herself off the counter. "Ahh, there's a very good explanation for that."
"I'm listening…"
Gos and Lyn stare at Morgana for several seconds, completely silent— before the first duckling grabs her sister's wrist, and they both scurry out of the kitchen. The sorceress is half-tempted to send Eek and Squeak after them, to see what this talk of "security footage" and "tape" is all about. She decides not to, instead turning her attention to the food that's been prepared so far.
"Looks like everything food-wise is ready," Morgana mutters to herself. "I might as well go check on the boys, and see how they're doing with the table…"
. . . .
After Drake's finished relieving his stomach, and cleaned up the mess he left in the hallway, he heads up the stairs and down the corridor. He reaches up and pulls down on the string dangling from the trap door. The contraption lowers, and once the bottom hits the floor, the mallard makes his way up the staircase.
He coughs as he steps into the attic, the dust on the floor billowing out from his bare feet. Drake covers his mouth and reaches up, grabbing the metal string hanging from the ceiling. The light installed in the base bolted to the wooden surface clicks on— enveloping the room in a soft, golden glow.
His eyes flick over to a dusty old newspaper sitting on the lone table, and he picks it up out of mild interest. He opens it, and spies one particularly interesting headline. The mallard starts reading the article itself. "St. Canard citizens advised to not answer 'Ugly Art for Sale' newspaper ads after crazy clown robs several ad-pursers—"
"Hey, what's goin' on up here?" Drake turns to see Negaduck sticking his head through the trap door's opening, looking around with a curious expression. "I used to have an attic like this one in my universe," Negaduck adds, now climbing the rest of the way into the attic. "It's where I hid the rest of my first enemy. Not that there was much left of him to begin with."
Drake decides to just ignore that piece of information as he folds the newspaper up and sets it back on the table. He's reminded of that conversation, one that happened about two years ago when the other duck had offered to let him take his motorcycle for a spin or two.
Don't think about the headrest, Darkwing Duck was telling himself as he settled himself on the seat of the motorcycle. Don't think about the—
"So, how do you like my headrest, Dipwing?" Negaduck asked, sitting himself down behind Darkwing and wrapping his arms around the other's middle.
"Oh, it's very nice," Darkwing told him sarcastically, his hands coming down to rest on the handlebars. "Very… veryclassy."
"As it should be," Negaduck declared, closing his eyes and smirking at the comment. "It came from my first enemy."
"… charming," was all Darkwing had to say to that.
The creepy headrest and the implications of how Negaduck had even gotten it aside, Drake did still enjoy that night. Zooming down all the roads of St. Canard in the night, his significant other riding with him… the cool wind whipping in his feathers, and the light drizzle coming down from the clouded skies.
The middle-aged mallard smiles at the memory.
"So… what are you doing up here?"
Drake's smile disappears at the question. Right. The reason he's up here. "Well… I wanted to try to go through some things. Get rid of stuff I don't need anymore. That sort of thing."
"I think I'll join you," Negaduck declares, brushing off the dust that's already begun to collect on his leather jacket.
"You just want to see embarrassing baby pictures of me," Drake mutters drily, crossing his arms.
"Why, whatever could make you think that?" Negaduck smirks as he asks the question in a coy tone, leaning his face closer to that of the other duck's.
"Because you always want to see embarrassing pictures or videos of me."
Negaduck's beak contorts into a frown at the delivery of Drake's reply. Something… doesn't seem quite right. His posture, his tone of voice… the look in his eyes.
"Dipwing?"
Drake sighs tiredly, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "It's just… there's a reason I've been putting this off for so many years."
Negaduck's frown only deepens as the gears turn in his head.
"Even when I was just Darkwing Duck," Drake continues, wariness riddling his voice, opening his eyes and looking back at the other, "a duck by no other name… Drake Mallard couldn't run away from his past." He rubs his arms awkwardly, his stomach knotting up like it always would when he thinks about this. The clawing in his chest, and the tightening of his lungs. "My parents were good people. For the most part. They always loved me, no matter how much trouble I'd get myself into— and out of."
Drake uncrosses his arms, and rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking away from Negaduck. "But when I was in my late teens, I… figured some things out about myself. Things they didn't take too well to when I told them." He pauses, sighing again. "My mom cried. They… after that, they never looked at me the same way again. And when I moved out, they wouldn't speak to me. They wouldn't answer my letters or my calls. So… one day I just stopped. And not long after that, I gave up my civilian identity entirely, and became Darkwing Duck full time."
"But Drake Mallard wasn't gone," Negaduck murmurs, looking away from the other with an unreadable expression. "Not completely, anyway."
"That's right. I still kept some of the old photo albums my parents made me take with me when I moved out," Drake tells him. "Guess they didn't want any reminders that they ever had a son. Some nights, even years after I'd ditched Drake Mallard, I'd still look through those albums. Wishing that I was… normal. So I could be with them again." The sadness riddling his features fades— instead being replaced with a soft smile as he settles a hand on Negaduck's shoulder. "But not anymore."
"Huh?" Negaduck turns his gaze back onto the other duck, clearly surprised. "Whaddya mean, 'not anymore?'"
"The only people I need in my life are right here, under this roof," Drake declares, taking a step closer. "And in the backyard. Oh, and exactly one person under the Muddlefoots' roof too," he adds, thinking of Honker. "I don't need my parents. I mean, I still miss them sometimes, and I probably always will… but they're not my family. You are."
The next thing either of them know, their beaks have met. Drake doesn't know exactly how long they stay like that— it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. They're on the floor now, half-sitting half-laying, arms circled around one another as they kiss.
They only stop when two voices go, "Ewww!" from the attic trapdoor.
"Our Dads are being gross!" Gos swiftly covers both her eyes and Lyn's as if to emphasise.
"And what are you two doing up here?" Drake asks his daughters, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing!" Gos answers quickly, uncovering her eyes and Lyn's. "Carry on! C'mon, Lyn— let's go watch some TV. We can come back later…" Before either of their Dads can question further, both girls climb back down the staircase and run off.
"Someday you might feel different about kissing, you know!" Drake calls after them anyway.
Negaduck then adds, "Like when you're sixteen and we have to threaten to beat your dates with shovels if they ever even think of hurting you!" He adds in a lower voice, "Though I don't think a shovel would be as effective as my chainsaw."
Drake snorts, now resting his head on the other's shoulder. "Yeah, maybe your chainsaw would be better at getting the message through."
Negaduck laughs.