The art of not being and idiot is extremely challenging for me. Delpad
DELPAD WOO-HOO!! I’m in that secret little club that adores this ship, but I’m here to provide content! Enjoy!
“I’m stuck.”
“Huh?”
Now, Della had a very common McDuck family trait - the ability to scare anyone even when she was the one in a dire situation. And Launchpad was particularly susceptible to this trick.
Huffing, Della twisted herself around in the bars of the stair guardway, staring Launchpad down until he was practically at her height. “I said, I’m STUCK.”
“B-but...you got yourself in there! Can’t you get out?” Launchpad stepped around the guardrail and examined her position. Despite the situation Della’s face heated up at his eyes on her form. No, no, stay mad! If she was mad she couldn’t like him. That would solve it. After all, it always did in the movies, right?
Launchpad put a warm hand on her shoulder and smiled gently.
Aw, phooey.
“Don’t worry, Miss Dee, Drake once got himself stuck between his motorcycle and the computer, but Gosalyna and I got him out! Sure, it took some peanut butter and a lot of staples, but he’s doing a lot better now!” He grinned brightly and swung himself around so he was behind her. “So, what should I do?”
The clock was ticking and Della was running out of ideas. The clock had just chimed for four in the morning, and knowing her brother, he’d be up anytime now to get his I Raised Three Children and Didn’t Get Enough Sleep During It coffee. How was she supposed to explain this?
A flicker of light passed between them. Della’s eyes caught his and she found her breath had just...gone. It wasn’t there anymore.
No...no, not cute, not cute…
“Uh, here, just grab my hands. It’ll be easier to get my hips out than my head.”
Almost like the carnival ladder game, Della suspended her center of gravity, grabbed Launchpad’s wrists and balanced her body in the space between him and the cold metal bar holding her captive. She twisted around until she was on her side and ditched her metal leg.
Hanging her head upside down she caught Launchpad’s eyes. “Okay, now before all the blood rushes to my head, pull me out.”
“But...but won’t that hurt?” A calm sense of concern and gentlemanly goodness leaked through his voice.
Della balanced one arm on his. Her hand caressed his wrist as the other lifted to his jaw, her thumb tenderly brushing across his beak. “Launchpad, you beautiful idiot - I had to sever my own leg off on the moon. I’ll be okay.”
“Alright, if you say so.” Launchpad gulped and grabbed both her hands once more and pulled, gently at first, then, working together, she popped out of the steel trap and landed neatly in his lap. The silence of the early-morning dust in the mansion surrounded them as her hands went to rub her sore hips.
“Uh, you...you okay?”
For a goofball who couldn’t tell the difference between ice tea and coffee, he was surprisingly...warm. Comfortable. Like she could spend forty-eight hours just sitting with him and binging video games. Like he wouldn’t judge her for burping or asking if her foot looked weird. Like he already knew everything about her.
And then he smiled.
Soft and careful, cautious not to let her own heart fall into him too quickly, Della grinned back and let her cheek brush against the leather of his jacket. “Y-yeah, I’m good.”
“Um...I’m sorry I got you involved in this. It was just a dare, I mean I know I could have gotten you in trouble.” Launchpad ran a hand behind his head as he squirmed and shifted until Della sat by her lonesome on the steps.
She grinned deviously. “Launchpad, the art of not being an idiot is extremely challenging for me. If you hadn’t dared me to it I’d have done it on my own.”
“Hey. I’m an idiot too!” Launchpad broke into glee and grabbed her tight above the ground. The cuddling sensation of his arms around her was a feeling she was getting used to a little too quickly.
Della laughed out loud as the pilot spun her around the living room, hair flying into her face and the beginning of a sunrise peeking through the window so it could catch a glimpse of the rebels in hysteria.
However, a quacking, exhausted voice broke the dance from just in the doorway, and neither needed to look to know who it was.
“What are you two doing?”
In unison, the two grumbled, “Aw, phooey.”
