Chapter Text
As an ex-actor who did all of his own stunts as well as generally being a pretty clumsy and unlucky person in general, Drake Mallard was used to suffering a lot of physical pain and injuries. And he knew that his new career as a caped crime-fighting vigilante only meant that he signed up to suffer and suffer greatly on a larger scale.
But having only been so recently freed from not one but two hard, itchy, bulky casts and even more recently having finalized Gosalyn’s adoption, Drake was trying to limit how much bodily harm he received. He did his best to look out for himself and not take more risks than necessary, honestly and truly.
Bad guys, however, did not extend the same courtesy.
“We’ve got you surrounded, Dr. Fear!” Darkwing yelled, pointing his gas gun at the former Duckburg Tech meteorology professor turned villain. The two were currently on top of the college’s science building, Gizmoduck swooping in along with Launchpad in the Thunderquack. “Surrender!”
The crazed professor laughed as lightning flashed and thunder rolled and he cried out “Fool! It is you who should be surrendering to me if you want your friends to live!”
With that, he began to direct the lightning using the remote in his hand, nearly taking out Gizmoduck and almost hitting the Thunderquack.
Snarling, Darkwing Duck flicked the switch on his gas gun, switching it from the canister of sealing foam he typically used to capture bad guys to the grappling hook.
Needless to say, Dr. Fear wasn’t expecting the cord to wrap around his torso, or for Darkwing to retract the hook, sending him to the ground, his remote going flying.
“Looks like you’re a little tied up,” Darkwing said, going over to pick up the remote. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this…”
He had just picked it up and turned off the lightning machine when he felt something heavy collide with his back. There was the sound of evil laughter, Gizmoduck calling out for him, and Darkwing was airborne, falling towards the ground from the top of the two story building.
He hit the ground, felt something pop in his shoulder, and the breath was knocked out of him so he couldn’t even let out a cry of pain.
Darkwing didn’t quite remember blacking out, but he remembered waking up, stars in his vision—quite literally, as it was night—and pain radiating in his shoulder and spreading down to his numb fingers as he dizzily looked up at the visored helmet of Gizmoduck hovering over him.
“—wing! Oh, good, you’re— Wait, no, don’t get up, you might have injured your—!”
Darkwing ignored him and pushed himself onto his left side, Gizmoduck backing up slightly as Darkwing threw up.
“Ah, well, okay then,” Gizmoduck said awkwardly, the Fenton underneath the suit showing. “Yeah, it’s, uh, good you got up, then. Guess that means your spine and neck are okay. I think. But don’t move! Launchpad will be here in a second, he’s landing the Thunderquack and—”
“Dr. Fear?” Darkwing groaned, falling back over onto his back, the pain in his head and shoulder still strong and his stomach still churning. He winced at the additional feeling of how gross his throat and mouth now felt
“I took care of him, he’s not going anywhere,” Gizmoduck insisted. “Well, except to prison. Again. Not that it really worked the last three times but—”
“Gizmoduck,” Darkwing growled, closing his eyes. “Shut up or I’ll puke on you.”
“Duly noted.” Gizmoduck demurred.
“DW!”
Darkwing lazily opened an eye to look up at Launchpad, who was kneeling down beside him.
“I’m going to hand Dr. Fear over to the cops,” Gizmoduck said. “I’ll be back. Or, uh, I’ll send someone I know. Named Fenton. LP, try to keep him awake, he might have a concussion.”
With that, Gizmoduck went back towards the roof.
“DW, come on, talk to me,” Launchpad urged.
“My shoulder is on fire,” Darkwing groaned. “I think it’s dislocated… Launchpad, help me sit up.”
“Why?” Launchpad asked, watching as Darkwing pushed himself up onto his left elbow.
“Because I’m going to pop my shoulder back into place,” Darkwing explained through gritted teeth with the pain. He took a few deep breaths to settle himself and his stomach.
“You can do that?” Launchpad asked as he carefully helped his partner get into a sitting position.
“Yeah. Totally,” Darkwing said with as much confidence as he could muster. Truth be told, he had only seen how to do this on the internet once trying to teach himself first aid, given the fact that he could not afford to go to the hospital for every single injury he collected. He just had to hope this would work.
“Uh, should you be doing that when you might have a concussion?” Launchpad asked, sounding nervous.
“Pssh, I don’t have a concussion, I swear,” Darkwing insisted. He took another deep breath. “Okay. This isn’t going to be pretty…”
Using his left hand, he grabbed his right wrist. After a deep, stabilizing breath, he tried to lift his right arm.
Emphasis on tried.
He had barely lifted his arm when his vision went black and his stomach churned…
Launchpad said nothing as he patted the retching Darkwing on the back. When he thought Darkwing was done emptying the contents of his stomach, Launchpad asked, “So, uh, did it work?”
Darkwing slumped against his boyfriend, his eyes half lidded. “No, LP. It did not.”
Fenton came running up to them at that moment, pausing a moment to pant, his hands on his knees. “Sorry,” He wheezed. “Had to put the suit in the Thunderquack. And take the suit off near the soccer fields and they’re all the way over—”
“Fenton,” Launchpad interrupted. “We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”
“Agreed,” Fenton said, standing up straight again. He showed the two something that he had in his hand, saying, “That’s why I brought this.”
“What exactly is this?” Darkwing asked, not opening his eyes to look.
“What we need to take Drake Mallard to the ER,” Fenton said, kneeling in front of Darkwing to start unbuttoning Darkwing’s jacket.
Drake opened his eyes to glare at both of them.
“I don’t need to go to the ER…” Drake argued.
“You’re going to the ER,” Fenton and Launchpad said simultaneously.
“But I don’t need to go to the ER…”
Launchpad and Fenton exchanged a look, having a feeling that they were in for a very long and very circular conversation.
“Let’s talk about this more,” Launchpad said. “At the ER.”
()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Dr. Elise Schwanz was having a night and more than ready for her shift to be over. She’d already had to change her scrubs twice, had to delay her lunch break which meant that she couldn’t call her girlfriend before she boarded an eight-hour flight, and had a patient demand to know why he was being seen by another nurse and wanting to know when the doctor would actually show up. That last one had nearly made her forget her Hippocratic Oath to do no harm.
Alas, she still had four hours of her shift left.
“Hey, Elise!” Dr. Schwanz turned to see Carol, a sweet-faced pig who was a nurse, who was approaching with a clipboard and envelope in hand. “Got an easy one for you.”
“Is there such a thing?” Dr. Schwanz asked, accepting the clipboard and wishing it was coffee. She read through the file on the clipboard. “Male duck, late twenties, dislocated shoulder, huh?”
“Yep. X-Rays are in the envelope,” Carol said. “After all you’ve already done tonight, this is basically a break.”
Dr. Schwanz scoffed. “A break? What’s that like?”
She headed towards the cubicle listed on the chart, frowning slightly when she heard voices.
“You shouldn’t have taken me to the ER,” One male voice was saying. “I am fine. Totally fine.”
“Yeah, that’s why you puked. Twice,” Argued another male voice.
“Puking is cathartic,” The first voice argued.
“It’s also a symptom of a concussion.” Piped in a third voice in a matter-of-fact tone.
“The nurse ruled out the concussion when we checked in. But that’s beside the point. I am an adult, I can refuse treatment if I want.” The first voice insisted.
Schwanz grit her teeth. Oh. Great. It was one of those patients…
She threw back the curtain and said, “Hello, I’m Dr. Schwanz. Which one of you gentlemen is Drake Mallard?”
There were three ducks in the cubicle, one tall and broad with red hair and wearing a bomber jacket, a short brown duck with messy hair, and a medium sized white duck in a purple flannel shirt who did not look happy to be there. The fact that he was the one seated on the bed and his right shoulder was at a weird angle answered her question on sight, but Dr. Schwanz wanted to ask anyways.
The first two pointed at their friend in the purple shirt.
Drake Mallard huffed and said, “They’re over-reacting. Besides, I know how to get my shoulder back into place on my own.”
Oh, great, an armchair doctor…
“Do you now, Mr. Mallard?” Dr. Schwanz said sweetly. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it Dr. Mallard?”
Drake shifted on the bed slightly and said, “Uh, no…”
“Drake Mallard, RN?”
“Er, no…”
Dr. Schwanz blinked at him innocently. “Ah, I see. You’re still in school, then? Medical school or nursing school?”
“Neither…” Drake admitted.
Dr. Schwanz let her sweet grin turn sharp as she said, “Then how about you let the medical professionals be the medical professionals, okay?”
She had the immense satisfaction of watching her patient gulp and attempt to shrink into the bed.
The short duck coughed and said, “Whelp, Launchpad, I think you’ve got this from here so I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna go. See ya, Drake, hope you feel better. Nice to meet you, Dr. Schwanz!”
“Fenton, you coward,” Drake hissed as the smaller duck—Fenton—slipped past and booked it out of the ER.
“Now then,” Dr. Schwanz said, pulling out the X-Rays and putting them on the light-board, flipping on the switch. As she studied the X-Ray, she continued, “So how exactly did this happen, Mr. Mallard? I heard something about symptoms of a concussion on my way in…”
“I, uh, fell off a roof. Two stories,” Drake said softly.
Dr. Schwanz paused and looked over her shoulder, neither duck looking at her.
“You fell off a roof,” She repeated flatly. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Are you aware that it is nearly two o’clock in the morning?”
“Yes, Doctor,” Drake confirmed.
“What the heck were you doing on a roof two stories up this late at night?” She demanded.
“Uh…” Drake said, glancing at the taller duck—Launchpad, did Fenton say his name was? Had to be a nickname. Launchpad shrugged and looked a bit panicked. “Uh, Christmas lights?”
“It’s June. Why were you putting up Christmas lights in June?”
“One, thank you for not assuming we were taking down Christmas lights, and two, haven’t you ever heard of Christmas in July?”
“Okay. And why did these Christmas lights for Christmas in July have to be put up in the middle of the night?”
“Ah, come on, Doc,” Launchpad said jovially. “Don’t you ever just… get that Christmas spirit? In the middle of the night? Is that a thing?” He glanced at Drake. “Seriously, is that a thing? I don’t know, I’m Jewish.”
Dr. Schwanz glanced between the two of them then pinched the feathers at the base of her beak. She really needed coffee, she felt a headache coming on…
“May I enquire what your relationship is to each other?” She asked.
“Partners,” Launchpad said at the same time Drake said, “Boyfriends.”
They glanced at each other, then Drake quickly said “Partners” while Launchpad exclaimed “Boyfriends!”.
Dr. Schwanz took a deep breath. “Look. I won’t judge, and I’m just a medical professional trying my best to tend to my patient. That means I need the whole truth. Is ‘putting up Christmas lights’ an euphuism for something else entirely?”
“No!” Drake and Launchpad exclaimed at the exact same time, both with red cheeks and shaking their heads.
Dr. Schwanz blinked, unimpressed and highly skeptical. “Okay, look here’s what’s going to happen. All three of us want this conversation to be over, so I’ll just ask one more question: was there any alcohol or other substances involved in this ‘putting up Christmas lights’ situation?”
“No.” Drake confirmed.
“Good,” Dr. Schwanz said. “Because here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go and get a nurse to give you a nice big dose of painkillers, then I’m going to put your shoulder back in its socket, put your arm in a sling, and get you out of my ER. Does that sound like a good deal?”
“Yes, Dr. Schwanz…” Drake and Launchpad said together, sounding chided.
“Perfect.” Dr. Schwanz said. “Be back in five.”
After she pulled the curtain back, Dr. Schwanz rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and shook her head.
You got all sorts of crazy in the ER…
()()()()()()()()()()()()
“Come on, Drake, nice and easy does it,” Launchpad said, trying to gently coax his drugged-out-of-his-mind boyfriend into the house, Drake giggling and swaying. “One foot in front of the other.”
Drake dramatically stretched his leg out, giggling as he hopped onto it, then swung out the other leg.
Launchpad sighed and started to fish his copy of the key to Drake’s house out of his pocket.
“Launchpad!” Drake said, grinning wide and his eyes glassy. “Guess what!”
“What, Drake?” Launchpad asked, trying to keep an arm around Drake’s waist to keep him upright as he unlocked the door.
“I’m the night that terrors in the flap!” Drake declared. “No, wait, I am the error that naps in the tights! No, that’s not right either.”
“You’ll get it, DW,” Launchpad said, reaching for the now-unlocked doorknob.
He didn’t get his hand on it, Drake’s leg kicking the door open as he strode in and gleefully yelled, “I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT! THAT’S IT, LAUNCHPAD, THAT’S IT! I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!”
“You’re the superhero that needs to be quiet so that you don’t wake up Gosalyn!” Launchpad stage-whispered as he rushed to get the door closed before the neighbors heard the commotion.
“Too late for that,” Gosalyn said from the top of the stairs, yawning. She frowned. “What happened to Drake?”
“Gosalyn!” Drake exclaimed, throwing his good arm wide and nearly knocking over the coat rack, which Launchpad rushed to catch before it hit the ground. “I’ve got a secret!”
“Oh, do you now?” Gosalyn asked, coming down the stairs while also giving Launchpad a ‘Seriously, what happened?’ expression.
“Yeah, come here,” Drake said, crooking a finger at her, giggling slightly. Gosalyn approached and Drake leaned over and whispered, “I’m Gizmoduck!”
Drake giggled again, looking immensely pleased with himself, then put his finger to his lip and made a shushing sound. “Don’t tell anyone! It’s a secret!”
Gosalyn was too tired to be amused and arched an eyebrow. “Good to know, Drake… Launchpad? Seriously? What happened?”
“Yeah, he kind of dislocated his shoulder. The nurse at the ER gave him a good dose of pain medication before they put it back into place, so he’s a little out of it,” Launchpad said. “I’m going to get him up to his room. You go on back to bed.”
With that, Launchpad—who had decided he was not going to fight the battle of getting a drugged and loopy Drake up the stairs—swooped Drake up bridal-style. Drake found this hilarious and threw his head back with a laugh and kicked his feet slightly, like it was all a game.
“How long until the meds wear off? And are you going to stay the rest of the night?” Gosalyn asked as she followed Launchpad up the stairs.
“I don’t know, and yes,” Launchpad said, though he felt odd saying so. In the commotion at the ER, Launchpad hadn’t asked Drake if he wanted him to stay over, and Drake hadn’t asked Launchpad to stay over. They had both agreed that they had felt like it was too early in their relationship for permanent co-habitation, and both thought it would be better for Gosalyn while she and Drake were transitioning into their new parent-child roles. So Launchpad sleeping over was rare but usually preceded by a long night on patrol where they were both too exhausted to move any further, or the even rarer times that Gosalyn slept over at McDuck Manor with her friends while Launchpad and Drake had some alone time.
But all of those times had been carefully planned, or with Drake’s direct approval. Launchpad just hoped that Drake would have given approval if he could actually think straight for one minute. Especially since he didn’t want to leave Gosalyn alone with Drake when he clearly wasn’t in his right mind and could potentially do more to harm himself than he already did.
“Where do you want to sleep?” Gosalyn asked. “’Cause I can make up the couch for you, if you want.”
That was probably the best place, but given the circumstances…
“Could you bring some extra blankets and pillows to Drake’s room, Gos?” Launchpad asked. “I’ll sleep on the floor in there. In case he needs something.”
Gosalyn nodded and went to the hall closet as Launchpad carried Drake into the bedroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bed while he pulled back the covers. By now, the effects of the medicine and the events of the night seemed to have caught up to Drake, and he yawned, his eyes half-lidded. Launchpad decided not to bother changing Drake into his pajamas, since he didn’t want to undress and re-dress a still-drugged and sleepy Drake and especially didn’t want to mess with the sling his arm was in.
“Come on, DW,” Launchpad coaxed. “Let’s get you tucked in.”
Drake nodded vaguely and let Launchpad help him further up the bed and under the covers.
Drake grinned at him sleepily and yawned again. “You know what, Launchpad?”
“What, Drake?” Launchpad asked as he tucked Drake into bed.
Drake stretched his good arm out and booped Launchpad on the tip of the beak with a fingertip, still grinning widely as he said, “I love you.”
Launchpad blinked, staring at Drake, who proceeded to close his eyes and start snoring.
Drake said ‘I love you’.
To him.
For the first time.
And then he had the nerve to fall asleep?????
No, he didn’t mean it. It had to be the drugs.
Right?
Launchpad sighed and pressed a kiss to Drake’s head. “Good night, Drake.”
()()()()()()()()()()()()
Drake groaned as he opened his heavy lidded eyes. He could feel the crust on his eyelids, his mouth felt so gross, he had a headache, and his shoulder hurt.
Not the best way to wake up.
“But at least I’m not in traction,” He mumbled to himself.
It was sad that that was his standards, wasn’t it?
Drake painfully shifted himself into a sitting position
“Morning, Drake,” Gosalyn said as she entered the room. She crawled into the bed beside him, giving him a hug. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a bus,” Drake told her.
“Launchpad said you fell off a roof,” Gosalyn told him as she snuggled into his side.
“They feel very similar,” Drake said, closing his eyes again
“Wait, you’ve been hit by a bus before?”
“No, but I imagine this is what it would feel like. More or less.”
“Drake? Promise me you won’t get hit by a bus.”
“Gosalyn, sweetie, I would but I feel like the universe would take that as a challenge.”
“Fair enough.”
“Hey, you’re awake!” Launchpad exclaimed as he entered the room, carrying a tray with breakfast foods
“Ugh. More or less,” Drake admitted, opening his eyes again. His stomach growled as he looked at the tray. “When did you get here, LP?”
“I, uh, I stayed over. After I got you back home,” Launchpad said sheepishly. “I slept on the floor in here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well, I mind that you slept on the floor,” Drake said. “You could have slept on the couch or the bed or something.”
“It wasn’t bad, and I didn’t mind,” Launchpad said, sitting at Drake’s feet. “You hungry?”
“Yes, and now I feel even worse about you sleeping on the floor, since you made breakfast, too,” Drake said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Launchpad told him, passing him a plate with toast. “Gos helped.”
“I did,” Gosalyn confirmed proudly.
“Well, thank you both,” Drake said, starting to munch on the toast and trying to ignore the fact that he was going to get crumbs everywhere.
Gosalyn pressed a kiss to Drake’s cheek then climbed out of the bed, saying, “I’m going to go grab a glass of juice. Want one, too, Drake?”
“Sure, Gos, thanks,” Drake said.
Gosalyn scampered out of the room and Drake reached for a second piece of toast. As he started on it, he realized that Launchpad was looking at him oddly.
“Everything okay, LP?” Drake asked.
“Yeah,” Launchpad said. “Just… Uh, Drake? Do you, uh, do you remember much of last night? After we left the hospital?”
“No?” Drake said, now concerned. “Why? What happened?”
“Oh, uh, it’s just… You were saying some weird things, that’s all,” Launchpad said, something in his tone slightly off. “You know. Totally normal things one says when they’re high on pain meds. Yep. Totally and completely normal.”
“Like what?” Drake prompted, suddenly very worried.
“You told us that you were Gizmoduck!” Gosalyn said as she reentered the room.
“Ugh, do not tell Fenton about that,” Drake said, rolling his eyes. “Anything else totally embarrassing that I should know about?”
He glanced at Launchpad who for some reason looked slightly disappointed as he said, “No. Nothing at all. Nothing to worry about.”
Launchpad moved the tray onto the bed and ruffled Gosalyn’s hair, then gave Drake a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to head to the Manor to get Mr. McD. I’ll drop him off at the Bin, then get some groceries before I swing back by here.”
“You’re the best, Launchpad,” Drake said, settling into his pillows.
“It’s nothing,” Launchpad insisted. “Just totally what boyfriends do for boyfriends, you know. Uh, Gos, keep an eye on him, okay? Don’t let him get bored, because he’ll do something dumb.”
“Hey!” Drake protested.
“Got it!” Gosalyn said, grabbing the TV remote. “Saturday cartoons, here we come!”
Drake watched Launchpad go, and he told Gosalyn, “You know, I can’t help but feel like I forgot something important.”
“Like your own intro? Because you did last night.” Gosalyn told him.
Drake sighed and grabbed a piece of fruit off the plate. “Guess I’ll never know.”