Work Text:
Playing the Superhero Game
by Pirate Turner
The superhero game had been fun for the first several decades of his life, but now he and his love were growing older and he'd began to worry over the pitfalls, wrecks, and attacks that were taking the toll on his hero. He was the one who carried DW when he couldn't walk. He was the one who slipped him his meds with a glass of water when he needed them. He was the one who massaged the kinks out of his back after a long night of battling villainy, and though he loved being that one, he knew every spot in his love's feathers that had been left as a permanent reminder of something that they hadn't done just right and how terribly much that area pained his husband on the cold, dark nights of Winter.
He gazed down at him now, great concern upon his face, his beak pulled down into a worried frown, and barely contained tears glistening in his big eyes. "DW?" he asked again and gave him a gentle shake. "DW, are you okay?"
"I'm . . . fine, Launchpad," Darkwing answered after a moment, his eyes finally refocusing. "That was . . . " he commented as he struggled to stand again upon his webbed feet, " . . . some landing."
Launchpad nodded. "Sorry."
DW looked up into his beloved sidekick's handsome face and saw the worry and guilt clearly written there. He clasped his muscular shoulder as he reassured him, "You did fine, Launchpad."
He heard a bone creak from somewhere within his body but stubbornly ignored it. Growing old wouldn't keep him from playing the game for which he'd been born! He would continue to track down criminals for as long as he lived, and nothing would stand between Darkwing Duck and the successful capture of the bad guys!
Yet, for now, his concern was one man, his very best friend in all the world and the truest, sweetest love he'd ever known, who looked about ready to break into tears. Darkwing grinned up at Launchpad. "Only you could have managed to get us out of that swarm of enemy jets and land us without being seen."
A slow grin began to etch over Launchpad's beak. "I did do that, didn't I?" he asked.
"Yes," Darkwing assured him, smiling proudly, "you did. Thank you." His purple cape swirled around him as he leaned up on the tips of his webbed feet and pressed his lips to Launchpad's. His mouth was just as sweet as it had been when they had first kissed, and DW knew that the sweetness he treasured the most would always be found there in his love's embrace. Paradise was always just an inch away when Launchpad was near him.
Launchpad trembled as DW kissed him. He wrapped his arms around him and lifted his beloved hero as he kissed him back with all the passion that he would always feel for him alone, passion that he'd not even known he could possess for another person until he had fallen head over feet for his main squeeze. They were still kissing when a spotlight suddenly shone onto them.
"Uh oh," Launchpad murmured as he stopped kissing DW and looked up at the bad guys beginning to assail them.
Darkwing slipped from Launchpad's arms, flipped through the air, and landed on his shoulders. Having gained several feet of extra height, he aimed his gun and sent the bad guys packing with his latest gadget. It filled the air with smoke, and when the smoke settled, the bad guys, minus the man that they had forced to pilot their jet, were sitting in the floor of their jet with dumbfounded expressions upon their brutish faces and tight ropes encircling them. Darkwing saluted the catman who was driving the jet, and his insider gave him a thumbs up sign before beginning to fly to the nearest police headquarters.
DW turned back to his loyal sidekick as he put his weapon away and announced with considerable bravado, "No one interrupts Darkwing Duck when he's kissing his man!" Yet he had barely returned to kissing Launchpad when another of their enemies caught up with him. "Sorry, love," he said as, shaking his head, he marched off to battle yet another foe.
Launchpad watched him go for just a second, then shrugged his shoulders and followed his hero with a grin. Being superheroes was far more than just a game. It was their life, and he knew, though DW would never admit it, that he would always come secondary to catching the bad guys. He worried about Darkwing, but coming second, after putting away the villains, was just fine with him.
He had known when he'd first fallen in love with his hero that that would be the way of their life together and had known, too, that no matter how old DW got or how many injuries he received, he'd always persist in fighting the good fight. After all, that was what heroes did, and his heroic, never-say-die nature was just one of the many countless things that Launchpad loved about his hero. Another one, of course, was watching him actually trounce the bad guys, and he smiled to himself as he watched DW do just that yet again that night.
The End