That jacket of his..
Drake exhaled a deep breath that he'd been holding practically the whole night, stripping off his Darkwing Duck attire and changing into his sleepwear, a proud smile plastered on his beak.
"Ah, another accomplishing, rewarding and yet..exhausting night of crime fighting." He yawned, stretching his limbs out, his body slouching as he dragged himself over to the couch. However, he quickly snapped awake after spotting something in the corner of his eyes.
It was a large, bulky jacket of a brown color, and Drake knew it could only belong to one person: Launchpad McQuack. Beloved pilot to all, and something entirely else to him. Although, Drake had yet to confess his true feelings.
He picked the jacket up, rubbing the material with his thumbs.
"Odd..he usually never leaves it. Guess it must've been a longer day than I thought."
He looked around, as if he didn't want to be caught. What if Launchpad came back in, looking for his jacket? What if Gosalyn woke up and teased him for what he was about to do for the rest of his life.
Finally, as the coast seemed clear a wave of relief washed over him, and his cheeks dusted pink, and he brought the jacket closer to his beak, enough to faintly take in the scent.
It was an odd mix of cologne, engine oil, and some other unknown component. It was Launchpad's distinct scent exactly, and it gave Drake a fluttering, warm feeling in his heart.
"Have I always been this weird?" He murmured to himself, but shrugged at the thought. Who cared, right? However, he did glance around one last time to make sure the coast was clear.
"I'm sure LP won't mind. After all, my blanket is still in the wash."
With that, he draped the jacket that was much too big for him over his shoulders, practically melting into it, every individual feather of his embracing and appreciating the warmth.
Drake fell backwards on the couch, curling himself up with his knees to his chest, falling asleep just like that, unaware of the feet approaching his door, or the fact that he'd left his door unlocked.
"Hey, Drake. Just remembered I left my jacket here. Crazy, right? I couldn't imagine me ever leaving it behind, but then it happened." The voice from behind the door rambled on, as Launchpad himself turned the knob open, stepping through the door.
"Oh, right. You're probably asleep, aren't you? And my constant talking is probably gonna wake you up any second now, but I gotta tell you tonight's crime fighting was ESPECIALLY-"
Launchpad stopped, not just his excited ravings about Darkwing Duck's epic feats tonight, but dead in his tracks. His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't sputter the words to describe the wholesomeness of the sight before him.
"Aw, Drakeyy.." He squealed under his breath, tears brought to his eyes and his beak quivering in a smile. Drake made no reply in return, simply snuggling deeper into the jacket, trying to stay asleep.
"Okay, okay.. shh.." Launchpad told himself, nodding. He sat down gently on the other side, placing a gentle hand on Drake's head as he rubbed through his feathers soothingly.
"I figure I can wait until morning to get my jacket back, DW." He whispered, smiling fondly as Drake seemed soothed at his head massaging.