A/N: I just really like this song, so I attached a story to it.

Even after attending the McDuck Christmas parties for almost a decade, Drake was always floored by the sheer size and extravagance of them.

There was always garland hanging from every conceivable angle with Christmas lights interwoven in their branches. There was always a massive gingerbread house built as a replica to some great wonder of the world (it was a replica of Duckburg this year). There was always the largest tree Drake had ever seen (they somehow continued to grow in size year after year), a group of carolers, outrageous amounts of food and drink, and a happily crackling fire in the gargantuan fireplace in the ballroom of Hotel McDuck.

Always classy, expensive, and the biggest, most Christmasy gathering Drake had ever been apart of.

This party would be better, though, because Drake had been invited twice, unbeknownst to his host—

"Where are they?" Scrooge demanded, smacking his cane on the pristine marble floor as he marched up to Drake.

If Drake didn't moonlight as the Terror that Flaps in the Night, he might have cowered at the sight of the angry tycoon coming toward him.

Okay, so maybe he cowered a little, but Scrooge McDuck was intimidating, all right? He hadn't become the richest duck in the world by being warm and cuddly.

"I'm sure they're on their way, sir," Drake said, totally not using Launchpad as a shield to hide behind.

Not at all.

"Are ye confident in tha', Mr. Mallard?" Scrooge asked, rolling the "r" in Mallard as he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Drake was definitely not about to step behind Launchpad completely and let the pilot deal with his employer.

But movement at the front door caught his eye, so instead he smiled, stood his full height beside Launchpad, and asserted, "I am."

Scrooge grumbled something incoherent as Gosalyn and Max scurried up to the group.

"Sorry we're—"

"Yer late," Scrooge interrupted Gosalyn and leveled a glare at her. "Time is money."

"Of course, Mr. McDuck," Max said easily, stepping forward and straightening his sweater. "I'll let our guests know that we're ready. Would you like to be the one who introduces them?"

Scrooge scowled, pointing his cane up to Max's nose. "They have five minutes, Mr. Goof."

"I'll have them ready in three, sir," Max assured.

Scrooge sniffed and stalked away.

Once Scrooge was out of earshot, Max turned to Gosalyn. "There should be a new suit in dressing room three through that door," he pointed to a back corner. "I'll get your quiver and bow from the car."

Gosalyn kissed Max on the cheek before disappearing through the door he'd indicated.

Drake eyed Max. "You handled Scrooge McDuck rather well." He crossed his arms while waiting for an explanation. No way a new employee was that good at handling their boss's mood swings. What was Max hiding?

But Max grinned. "I grew up next door to Pete. I can handle pretty much anything after that." Digging out car keys from his pocket, Max looked at Launchpad. "Can you tell Dad I'm here? And make sure he's ready?"

"Can do," Launchpad said cheerfully, walking through the same door Gosalyn had.

"I'll go tell Darkwing Duck that his adoring fans await," Drake said.

Max smirked. "You do that, Mr. Mallard. Thanks for, uh, coordinating all of this with him."

Drake narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Max held up his hands in surrender. "Just grateful. When you… see Darkwing Duck, can you ask him to get ready quickly?" Flashing another grin that set Drake's teeth on edge, Max wove through the crowd and ducked out the front door.

Sometimes Drake could swear Max knew about his double life.

But how could he? Sure, he'd figured out Gosalyn's alter ego, but they were dating. And Gosalyn was harder to mistake for anyone else with her shock of red hair; she wasn't the master of disguise that Darkwing Duck was.

Loosing a sigh, Drake followed the same path Launchpad and Gosalyn had taken, finding the custodial closet he'd stashed his Darkwing costume in and quickly changed.

By the time Max returned, Gosalyn's quiver and bow in hand, Darkwing Duck stood beside Launchpad, smoothing out the wrinkles in his cape.

"So glad you could make it, sir," Max said to him as Gosalyn secured her bow to the quiver buckled it on.

"Anything to help," Darkwing said, puffing out his chest.

"I'll get Dad then we'll head out," Max said, maneuvering around the heroes and disappearing into another dressing room.

Darkwing wondered how different the party would look through the eye holes of his mask.

Turns out, not very.

But it didn't feel as overwhelming with the crowd of guests cheering his name as he walked over to his meet and greet location. The purple velvet ropes outlining his designated area was a nice touch, he thought, as he stepped up in front of an image of St. Canard blown up onto a fabric backdrop. The first group came up to him, giddily asking for his autograph, saying they'd idolized him since he'd defeated the Fearsome Five in Duckburg over a decade ago.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Darkwing was an immediate fan of these McDuck Christmas parties.