Fic: Love Potion Number Nein (LP/DW)
Title: Love Potion Number Nein
Rating: For Older Kids (13+, roughly)
Fandom: Darkwing Duck
Summary:
This is inspired by a search for Darkwing fanfic that didn't involve explicit Megavolt or Bushroot sex, I admit I went as close as I could manage. Anyhoo, it's reasonably kid-friendly (PG-13 at worst), so I hope you enjoy.
"Freeze, Bushroot!"
Bushroot, unsurprisingly, didn't. Instead, he snapped his fingers (roots? Darkwing had never quite figured that out), and the vines arcing over the door to the greenhouse reached down to entangle him and Launchpad.
This escalated, as fights with villains did, into a pitched battle. Bushroot's laboratory made it more exciting than even a fight in Bushroot's greenhouse should be; there were vials of vile-smelling liquid Darkwing did not want to get on his cape, hotplates, and steam clouding his vision in obscure corners of the greenhouse.
Launchpad, to his credit, was doing a good job distracting Bushroot's plants, so that Darkwing could focus on the real threat. Admittedly, the "distraction" consisted of him being easily caught and an entertaining captive, but at some point halfway through Gosalyn's middle-school career, Darkwing had given up caring about the means by which he got results. As long as evil was defeated, the ignominy Darkwing suffered in the process was negligible.
Most of the time.
Darkwing ducked under a too-friendly weeping willow and crashed into a table containing a bowl of fluorescent greenish-yellow purple powder. It looked sinister enough that dumping it around the greenhouse would probably mess up Bushroot's plans, so Darkwing grabbed it and turned to where he could hear Bushroot wading through the sea of plants in the greenhouse.
It took a few seconds for Darkwing to realize that the bowl, a ceramic disc, had been sitting on a hot plate and was, therefore, very, very hot. He screamed and tossed the bowl straight up. Bushroot and Launchpad burst through the nearest thicket just as the bowl landed back on Darkwing's head, accompanied by a shower of sparkling powder.
"Uh oh," Bushroot whispered. "Look, it's been fun and all, but I gotta go. Now."
"Hang on, Bushroot," Darkwing snapped. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to explain what you're up to and we're going to stop it. Right, Launchpad?"
Launchpad didn't answer immediately. "Launchpad?"
"Are you sure you're okay, DW? You look...different."
"What?" Darkwing frantically glanced down at his outfit and body; he didn't see anything out of the ordinary other than the fine layer of powder covering him. He glanced back at Launchpad; his sidekick's figure loomed over him, much closer than Darkwing had expected. "Yah! Don't sneak up on me, Launchpad!"
Launchpad's face fell. He took a hesitant step back, but then reached a hand out to Darkwing. "Are you sure you're okay? That stuff looks...glowy."
"We don't have time for that!" Darkwing snapped. "We've got to catch-" then he stopped, eyes widening. "Where'd Bushroot go?"
"Oh." Launchpad flushed. "Sorry, Darkwing. I guess he ran off when you were distracted." He reached out to brush away the dust on Darkwing's shoulder. "But we still stopped Bushroot from doing whatever he was doing, right? We can get the cops down here to clean this mess up, and call it a night."
Darkwing took a deep breath, then took a quick glance around the greenhouse, now absent any maniacal half-plant, half-duck supervillain.
"Sure. I have to take a bath anyway. Do you think this stuff is going to stain? Because if it does, I'm sending Bushroot a bill for my drycleaning."
Launchpad put a steadying hand on Darkwing's shoulder and led him out to the waiting Thunderquack.
But he kept giving Darkwing odd looks, and occasionally reaching out, pausing, and then brushing off a little more of the dust from Darkwing's jacket.
It took Darkwing most of the way home to realize that the look Launchpad was giving him was his nervous look; this made Darkwing himself nervous, because he felt fine. Thus, either he looked terrible or was acting oddly. Darkwing didn't think he was acting oddly, but if he were acting oddly, he doubted he'd notice.
Nevertheless, nervous transformed into worried, and Launchpad helped Darkwing out of the plane at the hideout before they headed home. He was obviously worried for Darkwing, so when they got home, Drake took a quick shower and went straight to bed. Hopefully, things would look better in the morning.
They weren't. Yes, Launchpad wasn't shooting him weird looks, and Gosalyn seemed cheerful enough for a fourteen-year-old girl. But Drake had to go grocery shopping, and it was when he got to the store that things started getting weird.
He kept getting the feeling he was being watched, although no amount of whirling around revealed the identity of his stalker. And then the canary running the deli kept winking at him. Darkwing was thoroughly on edge by the time he got to the cash registers.
He was fourth in line, and there was a significant line behind him when he felt someone pinch his butt. He whirled, nearly upsetting his basket, and glared at the crowd behind him. While no one seemed to be the likely culprit, almost every member of the crowd was staring at him.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Drake demanded.
The woman directly behind him, a middle-aged cow, smiled at Drake and leaned close.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that face, honey," she crooned. "In fact-"
"Next," the cashier droned. Drake turned away hurriedly and came face-to-face with the cashier, a teenaged dog who let out a terrified yelp and dropped a can of pinto beans.
"If you've dented that, I'm not paying for it," Drake snarled. The dog let out a strangled whine and ducked his head.
"I'm terribly sorry," he whimpered. "I'll...can I do anything to help you?" he asked hopefully.
"Just ring it up quickly; I'm a busy duck."
Annoyance and panic warred on the teen's face; in the end, he gave a tight nod and began ringing up Drake's groceries in something approaching record speed. However, about halfway through, Drake felt another pinch. He whirled on the crowd, reserving a special level of glare for the cow directly behind him.
"Okay, who did that?" No one answered, although Drake could now see that at least half of the men and women behind him were staring at him with expressions of vacant lust. It was a tremendously disturbing realization. "Do you want me to hold up this line until someone owns up to harassing me?" he demanded.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind if you kept us here all day," a fox near the back of the line drawled, swishing her tail seductively.
Drake began to twitch, slightly. He leaned forward, and heard a clatter from behind him. The cashier had dropped a jar of applesauce, and his face was flushed. He was staring at Drake's tail-except now that Drake had turned, his gaze was fixated on a completely different part of Drake's anatomy.
"You know what? I don't need food today," Drake announced. "Terribly sorry to bother you..." He almost leaned in to read the cashier's name tag, but then realized that would expose his tail to the crowd behind him. "But I've got to go. Bye!"
He sprinted from the grocery store, sped home, and locked himself in his bedroom until Launchpad returned from tuning up the Darkwing vehicles.
He could hear the door shut as Launchpad came in, and then Launchpad's slow jog up the stairs. A knock came at the door.
"DW? Are you decent?"
Drake blinked. Launchpad never knocked. He assumed there was never a bad time to drop in on Drake.
Scowling, Drake threw open the door and dragged Launchpad down to his level by the lapels. "Something weird is going on. You're looking at me like I'm going to drop dead, someone kept pinching my tail in the grocery store, and the cashier couldn't keep his eyes off of my ass!" He stalked from the room, dragging Launchpad along behind him. "We're going to S.H.U.S.H. If they can't tell me what's going on, no one can."
Darkwing watched Launchpad throughout the entire trip. He hadn't groped Darkwing, and wasn't staring at him. He was the same old Launchpad. That realization, however, left Darkwing confused about what exactly was happening. Oh, he'd be confused anyway, because the weird things supervillains did to him always confused Darkwing. But he'd almost gotten his head around it when the entire grocery store had looked at him like he was a three-course meal at the end of a long day. Something had made other people see him as remarkably attractive. However, the working hypothesis fell apart if Launchpad wasn't acting the same way.
"Hey, Launchpad?"
"Yeah, DW?"
"Do I look...different?"
Launchpad gave Darkwing a quick once-over, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Naw. You get a haircut or something?"
"No. I just...you don't feel anything...out of the ordinary when you look at me?"
Launchpad shook his head. "Should I?"
"Launchpad, at least a dozen people at the grocery store tried to molest me! Even for a dashing speciman of duck like myself, that's a little out of the ordinary. I can't help but feel that the powder Bushroot dumped on me-"
"Didn't you sort of dump that powder on yourself?" Launchpad asked.
"Regardless of who dumped that powder on me, this insanity started after it got dumped on me. People have been starting at me like..."
"Like you're a hot tamale?" Launchpad asked.
"Exactly! But you don't feel anything?"
"We're here," Launchpad announced, turning the motorcycle into a skid that stopped right in front of S.H.U.S.H. HQ. Darkwing opened his mouth to protest, but Launchpad was already vaulting out of the motorcycle. Darkwing scrambled after him, still confused. He'd known Launchpad long enough to know that sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between Launchpad being dense and Launchpad avoiding a topic. He wasn't, however, skilled enough to time their arrival to Darkwing's questions. So maybe Darkwing was overthinking things.
That theory went out the window when the receptionist started hyperventilating the moment Darkwing walked in the door.
"Mr. Duck!" she squealed. "It's so lovely to...see you." She fluttered her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. "What brings you to S.H.U.S.H.?"
"I'm here to see Dr. Bellum," Darkwing snapped. "As soon as possible."
"Oh," the receptionist sighed. "I see. I guess...I'll call her." She dramatically pressed a button on the intercom. "Dr. Bellum? Darkwing Duck here to see you." She glanced up at Darkwing, leaning over her desk. "So, are you doing anything later?"
"Yeah," Launchpad interjected. "He has a date with his girlfriend."
The receptionist visibly deflated, slumping forward on her desk. After a moment, however, she looked back up, smiling. "But you're not busy tomorrow night, are you?"
Darkwing sighed.
Luckily, Sarah Bellum took that moment to enter the lobby.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing. We cleaned up Bushroot's laboratory. It's a shame you didn't catch up with him, but I guess I'll forgive you. If you give me a nice, wet kiss."
Darkwing groaned.
"So, how about it?" Dr. Bellum took a few steps towards Darkwing before running her hands slowly down her lab coat. "I've never kissed a superhero before; think of it as an experiment."
"Uh, Dr. Bellum, we're sort of in a pickle. Something happened to DW-"
"Something happened?" Dr. Bellum pushed up her glasses. "Some sort of accident? Are you all right, Darkwing?" She glanced at Darkwing, gaze scanning up and down...and up and back down again. A tiny smile graced her bill. "Nothing looks wrong. In fact, he looks...wonderful."
"That's sort of the problem, Dr. Bellum. Ya see, everyone's been looking at DW like that."
"Like what?" Dr. Bellum glanced at Launchpad, if only briefly.
"Like..." Launchpad spread his arms. "Look, Doctor, could we talk...alone?"
Dr. Bellum glanced at Launchpad again, and then sighed. "Very well. I'll be back soon, Darkwing." She winked at Darkwing as Launchpad shoved her out of the room.
"So..." the receptionist began.
"Can it," Darkwing snarled. "You never looked at me twice the four years you've been working here. You're under the influence of some sort of crazy...dust thing!"
"Oh," she said, drooping. "Well, then maybe we should make out now while I still think you're attractive."
"That would be incredibly ill-advised, Molly." Dr. Bellum, now wearing an elaborate gas mask, re-entered the room, trailed by Launchpad. "Launchpad explained everything to me, Darkwing. I must apologize for being so...forward earlier. From what Launchpad told me, it seems likely that the powder you found in Bushroot's laboratory was some form of highly-concentrated pheromone."
"Phere-what?"
"Pheromones. Chemicals that induce automatic behavioral responses. Scents, really. In particular, I suspect what you were covered with are sex pheromones."
"Se-" Darkwing broke off. "You mean...people are actually attracted to...the way I smell?"
"Oh, yes." Dr. Bellum began pacing. "You told Launchpad that non-avians were affected by the pheromones?" Darkwing nodded. "That would suggest he's developed some form of universal pheromone. That's worrying."
"Worrying?" Darkwing asked.
"Well," Dr. Bellum replied, "pheromones are sensed by the Jacobson's organ, which is differently developed in different species. The effect of a single universal pheromone, therefore, will be proportional to the sensitivity of one's Jacobson's organ. Ducks, for example, have a reasonably strong organ. Dogs, however, would probably find a pheromone we find irresistable equivalent to a fast-acting aphrodasiac."
The panicked cashier at the grocery store suddenly made a lot more sense, Darkwing decided. Suddenly, Darkwing was lifted bodily into the air, a pair of arms tight around his chest.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing," Agent Grizzlikof practically purred. "Are you aware that you smell proactively...radiant?"
"And bears, whose sense of smell is approximately seven times better than that of bloodhounds, would probably be incapable of ignoring the chemical demands pheromones make. Here, Agent Grizzlikof." She raised a small purfume bottle and spritzed it in Darkwing's face. His nose was assaulted with the smell of...peppermint?
Grizzlikof's grip loosened. "What are you doing? What am I doing? What is going on-" He paused, thinking. Then he dropped Darkwing and backed away. "What's gotten into me? What's going on here, Dr. Bellum? Why are you wearing a gas mask?"
"Darkwing seems to have been exposed to a particularly efficacious pheromone," Dr. Bellum replied mildly. "You shouldn't feel too badly, sir. Given your sense of smell, I'm afraid that bear hug was the mildest response you could manage when exposed to the effects."
"Phero-" Grizzlikof rubbed his forehead wearily. "Why does this sort of thing always seem to happen when Darkwing Duck shows up? So what are we doing about it? Are we all wearing gas masks?"
"For anyone exposed to Darkwing for an extended period of time, that would be ideal," Dr. Bellum replied. "But for short-term exposures, peppermint oil ought to suffice. Anything with a strong scent ought to work, but peppermint is less likely to irritate one's nose."
"And what are we proposing to do in the long-term, Doctor?" Grizzlikof asked.
"I'm going to take samples and see if I can't analyze the pheromones, and if we can manage, the dust residue. And then we'll see what we can do."
"You better fix this quickly, Doctor," Grizzlikof muttered. "I hate peppermint."
Dr. Bellum's tests took three hours of poking, scraping, and her quietly humming as she mixed chemicals and looked at microscopes. She spent the entire time wearing her gas mask; Launchpad, on the other hand, remained cheerfully, obliviously unmasked the entire time.
"It seems that we were right. This is similar to the pheromones of several different species, but with a strong component that resembles plant matter."
"Great. How do we stop it?"
"I'm...still working on that." Dr. Bellum flipped through several pages of notes. "I'm going to ask you to take careful observations while you're still under the effects of the pheromones, however. If you notice anything unusual beyond the parameters we've already established, please tell me. The more I know, the better the chance I can help you get rid of it."
"What does it mean if Launchpad isn't affected?" Darkwing asked.
"Pardon?"
"Or Gosalyn, for that matter."
"Oh! Gosalyn, I can explain. These are pheromones, Darkwing. Essentially, they are chemical imperatives to...mate. Your daughter is not fully mature, and as a result, is incapable of responding to the imperative."
"So, you're saying if she were older...?" Darkwing scrunched up his face, feeling more than a little queasy.
"I'm not certain," Dr. Bellum replied. "It's possible that certain feelings mitigate the effects of the pheromones. It's possible that a person in a committed relationship, or in love, might not react to the pheromones. And a young woman you've raised as your daughter might also be immune. I can't say for certain."
Darkwing nodded, but he reflected on Dr. Bellum's first point. Love? Was it possible that there was some woman that had won Launchpad's heart? It was a sobering, and somewhat upsetting, thought. He thought Launchpad and he were friends; that Launchpad would keep something this big from him hurt. And the thought of Launchpad dating some woman made Darkwing inexplicably unconfortable. But then, it wasn't that odd. They were a team, and if Launchpad had a girlfriend, it would interrupt their dynamic. And it was possible she'd take Launchpad away from him.
So he didn't hear the rest of Dr. Bellum's speech, which was just as well. When he actually listened to her, she tended to say upsetting things.
But she had pointed out something important. The pheromones didn't work on people who already had strong feelings towards him. And that meant he could fight crime without fear of being molested; no one who hated him as much as any of his enemies would ever dream of being attracted to him.
So Darkwing was reasonably cheerful, even if the mystery of Launchpad's love interest was still bothering him. That night, on patrol, when they took a break to stake out the bank, he even felt relaxed enough to ask Launchpad about it.
"So, who's the mystery woman?"
"Whaddya mean, DW?" Launchpad gave Darkwing a very good approximation of a look of innocence.
"I mean, you're totally unaffected by these pheromones, and Dr. Bellum said that means you're in love with someone else. So who is she?"
"Oh..." Launchpad flushed deeply. "I...Well, I-it's not something I feel comfortable talking about, DW. Y'see..."
A thought struck Darkwing. "It's not Morgana, is it?"
"Ah, no," Launchpad replied. "Definitely not."
"Then who is it? Dr. Bellum?"
Launchpad shook his head.
"Come on! You can tell me. I thought I was your buddy!"
Launchpad's eyes widened, and he shook his head, sharply.
"Launchpad," Darkwing said carefully, "I'm not going to make fun of you. I just want to know who you're in love with."
"It's not..." Launchpad whimpered. "Not..."
"What? What is it, Launchpad?"
"Megavolt-" Launchpad choked out, and then everything went white and sparky in an immensely familiar way.
"Drake," Megavolt growled. "I'm so surprised to see you. You look...different."
"DW..." Launchpad said warningly.
Megavolt was standing at the edge of the rooftop Darkwing had chosen as their vantage point; he was leaning against an exhaust pipe, eyes focused on Darkwing. He looked...nonchalant.
No, Darkwing corrected. He still looked like a maniac. But his grin was about fifty watts lower, he was resting against a piece of the scenery rather than looking like he was about to explode, and his eyes hadn't moved from Darkwing for over five seconds, so it was obvious he was trying to look nonchalant.
"Did you cut your hair? Get a new outfit? Been working out?"
"Ah...Megavolt? Now might be a good time to tell you that I've been exposed to some sort of lust perfume, so if you're feeling...um...excited, that's the chemicals talking."
Megavolt shook his head, still grinning. "You may be saying it's the perfume, Darkwing, but my body's telling me something very different. Do you know what it's saying, Darkwing?"
"Yes," Darkwing said. "So please don't elaborate."
"Oh, I won't. Some things are better when they're left up to your...imagination," Megavolt sighed. He ran a finger down his chest, grin turning distinctly lascivious, and Darkwing, who had never wanted to connect that word to Megavolt, wished that there was a reliable way to erase that image from his brain.
"Launchpad?" Darkwing squeaked.
Megavolt's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? Are you-are you trying to steal him?" He growled. "I will not let you ruin my chance to finally get it on with Darkwing!" His hands began sparking, and Darkwing would not admit, even under threat of torture, that he whimpered. But he would cheerfully admit that he was distracted enough not thinking about what Megavolt wanted to do to him that he didn't see exactly what Launchpad did to dissuade him. Needless to say, a few busy seconds later, Megavolt was no longer on the roof, Launchpad had Darkwing tucked under one arm, and he was sprinting towards where Darkwing had parked the motorcycle.
"Launchpad? What did you do?"
Launchpad didn't slow his stride, but shouted in Darkwing's direction. "I knocked him into some garbage. I figured if he got trash up his nose, it'd cancel out the pheromones and he'd go back to normal. Or as normal as he ever gets. But I still figured when he got up he'd be mad."
"So, let's fight him!"
"I don't think that's a good idea, DW." Launchpad hopped onto a fire escape, still carrying Darkwing. "In fact, I think you're not going to fight crime until this pheromone thing runs it course."
"What? No! Darkwing Duck does not back away from a challenge!"
"Then let me ask you this." Launchpad landed on the ground next to the motorcycle and put Darkwing down. "What do you think Negaduck would do if he were attracted to you?"
"Ah-"
"Or Quackerjack? I bet he could cobble together some pretty uncomfortable games for the two of you to play."
"Urk-"
"Or the Liquidator?"
Darkwing didn't answer for a moment. "Does he even have a nose?"
"Do you want to find out?"
"Point taken. Let's go home."
It took less than three days for Drake to get bored; Gosalyn was never home, and Launchpad was taking care of all the errands Drake couldn't do for fear of being assaulted. The morning of the fourth day dawned, and Drake realized, guiltily, that he hadn't spoken to Morgana since the entire fiasco had started.
So the moment Launchpad left to do the shopping, Drake called her.
"Darkwing!" she cried. "It's so lovely to hear from you!"
"Hey, Morgana. Sorry it's been so long. I just-"
"Oh, it's all right, Darkwing. I know you're busy. I knew what I was getting into when I starting dating a superhero. So, how about dinner tonight?"
"Oh. I can't really get out of the house today, Morgana."
"Oh." Morgana sighed. "How about tomorrow?"
"Look, Morgana, how about I make dinner over here?"
"That sounds wonderful, Darkwing! I'll be over at seven!"
At around three, Drake began to worry. Of course, he'd been the one to invite Morgana over, but that had been because Drake didn't think before he spoke. He hadn't considered what he'd do when faced with a woman he actually quite liked, who presumably felt the same way, once the pheromones hit.
The concern distracted him as he prepared dinner, and by the time he saw Gosalyn off to the Muddlefoots' to spend the evening, Drake's hands were shaking.
He almost considered calling to cancel, but then the doorbell rang.
Drake whispered a quiet prayer, and then opened the front door.
"Morgana!"
Morgana smiled at him. "Drake! Oh my, I always forget how lovely your house is." She nodded towards the interior. "Can I come in?"
"Oh! Of course." Drake stepped aside. "Come on in, my lady."
She smiled and crossed the threshold, a faint smile on her beak. "You said you couldn't leave the house today. Is it something work-related?"
Drake sighed. "It's probably better if I tell you now. I got covered in this...dust. Dr. Bellum called it pheromones. For the past couple of days, every time I get close to someone, they get a little...excited."
"Oh!" Morgana put one finger to her beak. After a moment, her eyes widened. "Oh! But I-" She broke off, and took a step away from Drake. "Oh."
"Oh...what?" Drake asked.
"I'm...I don't feel it," Morgana replied.
"That's impossible," Drake said. "Everyone is affected. Except kids. And anyone who's in love...with someone else."
Morgana burst into tears.
"Morgana?"
She shook her head, body shaking with sobs. "I tried. I really did, Drake! I like you; I really do. But...I just..." She wailed, a long, drawn-out cry. Drake reached out, uncertainly, to pat her shoulder.
"It's all right, Morgana. Really."
"No, it isn't," she sobbed. "I've been leading you on for years, and that's a horrible thing to do."
"No, really! It's okay!"
Morgana gave Drake an uncertain, teary glance. "Really?"
"I..." Drake frowned. He wasn't certain if it was all right, but he didn't feel nearly as upset as he ought to be. Of course he was glad she wasn't throwing herself at him, like almost everyone had been for the past several days.
Of course, the fact that he was glad his girlfriend wasn't attracted to him probably was a sign that the entire relationship was flawed.
"Yeah. I think so." He took a deep breath. "To be honest, it's good to be talking to someone who's not staring at me like...you know. Other than Launchpad."
"Launchpad?" Morgana frowned, and tapped a finger against her beak. "Are you sure?"
"He hasn't tried to grab my tail yet," Drake replied. "I think that's a good sign."
"What, so he hasn't reacted at all?"
"No. He's the same old Launchpad. It's a little frustrating. How about you? Are you sure you don't feel anything? Not even a little bit of attraction?"
"Oh, Darkwing," Morgana laughed. "Of course you're attractive. I just...I was projecting a little, I guess. I met a great man ages ago in school, and he was funny, and attractive, and didn't have an ounce of magic in him. You remind me of him. So...yes, I suppose I'm a little attracted to you. But you're just not Poe." She sighed, and gave Drake a sidelone glance. "Are you sure you aren't upset?"
"Like I said, it's more of a relief that this thing isn't making you act weird." Drake grinned at Morgana it what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Whatever happened to your man, though?"
"I don't really know," Morgana replied. "He just up and disappeared one day. It's vexing."
"Maybe you should look for him. If you don't have to stick around your boyfriend, I'm sure you could use some magic thingie to find him."
"Magic...oh! I could try to find a way to help!"
Drake opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it closed. Now was not the time to annoy Morgana. "I...didn't think botany was your forte."
"Oh, not really. I did minor in alchemy at Eldritch Academy, however. I'm good with chemistry. And because I don't have any with you, I should be able to figure out how to negate this concoction."
"Oh..." Drake tried to think of a reason to decline, but Morgana looked hopeful, and Drake was getting desperate. "Fine."
What followed was three hours of Morgana poking him, mixing arcane concoctions in Drake's cookware, and frequent consultations of Morgana's spellbook.
At the end, Drake was ready to go to sleep; Morgana seemed as fresh as she had when she arrived. It came of being nocturnal, Drake thought darkly. Or possibly being a semi-immortal creature of magic.
But she had finished something she called an "anti-love potion," a reddish-greenish yellow sludge in a tiny vial.
"Normally, it would make you abhorrent to anyone who met you. But it should counteract the effects of the pheromones. I think. I hope."
"I'm willing to try anything," Drake replied. He sniffed at the potion, recoiling when the scent of burning grease hit his nose. "Almost. Do I drink this?"
"Oh, heavens no! It would probably kill you." She emptied the vial into a small spritz bottle. "It's like a perfume." She sprayed a few squirts of the fluid over Drake. "In this case, I'd say you need the entire bottle."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Drake snarled. He took the bottle and gingerly began spraying himself with it. "How will I know if it works?"
"Well, you'll have to find someone who was attracted to you before and see if they still are," Morgana said.
"I have to go outside?" Drake demanded. "But if it didn't work..." He shuddered.
"Where's that fearless attitude I know and love?" Morgana asked. "You can't possibly be frightened of a little attention."
"Frightened? Darkwing Duck isn't frightened of anything! Come on; let's get dangerous."
Drake drove Morgana to the grocery store; she seemed intent on seeing the effects of her potion. Drake, on the other hand, was feeling anxious. Morgana didn't have a long history of unqualified success, and from his long experience, Drake knew that things tended to get worse a lot more easily than they got better.
But he put on a brave face as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. Morgana had been working all night, so it was 8 o'clock and the store was opening. A younger dog was sweeping the front walk. However, he snapped his head up when Drake opened the door of the car.
As Drake approached, the dog laid his ears back, and his cheeks, neck, and forehead flushed. He was starting to sweat; behind Drake, Morgana was hurrying forward.
"Drake-"
The dog's broom snapped in half as he wrenched it in two opposite directions. The sound seemed to break him out of his apparent trance, although he didn't look away from Drake. However, the boy's eyes widened in horror and embarrassment, and he darted away from Drake and into the automatic door behind him.
"Drake, I don't think that was necessary. Or very nice," Morgana chided. "Are you going to help that poor boy?" The boy was rubbing his head, scowling, from the ground.
"I doubt he'd appreciate me getting any closer, Morgana. Let's get back in the car; this obviously hasn't worked. I need to see Dr. Bellum anyway."
As Drake drove away from the supermarket, he could see the boy staring after them, a look of panic and confusion on his face.
He called ahead to S.H.U.S.H., on the theory that they would appreciate the time to stock up on peppermint spray and gas masks.
Indeed, when they arrived, the receptionist was wearing a gas mask, and was pointing a small bottle at Darkwing as she would a gun.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing, sir. We've been expecting you. And this must be Miss Macawber." She reached out to shake Morgana's hand, but paused as Darkwing stepped up next to her. She spritzed the air around the two of them with peppermint, and then nodded at Morgana. "Dr. Bellum is in her laboratory. You can both go right in."
Dr. Bellum was examining slides through a microscope when Darkwing entered; she was wearing a mask that covered her beak but not her eyes. She looked up when he and Morgana walked in, and nodded to them.
"Darkwing. Miss Macawber." She frowned, slightly. "Now, you told us that you attempted to reverse the effects of the pheromones with some sort of potion?"
"Yes, but it didn't work at all. We tested it out, and this boy nearly had a heart attack when Darkwing got too close to him."
"Understandable, given how fantastically gorgeous he is," Dr. Bellum replied off-handedly. Then her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her beak. "Oh, dear. Gas mask, where's my gas mask?" She fumbled for a heavier gas mask, but dropped it before she could slip it over her face. "But who needs that old thing, anyway? It would just dampen that lovely scent you're wearing."
"Morgana..." Darkwing whined.
The sorceress swung into action without batting an eye. She shoved Darkwing into the hallway and slammed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, she emerged with an empty syringe to take his blood.
"Dr. Bellum is worried I might have made the problem worse," Morgana said apologetically.
"Par for the course, unfortunately," Darkwing replied. "So, that's for me?"
"I'm sorry."
An hour later, Darkwing had locked himself in a closet rather than face the possibility of an amorous Agent Grizzlikof. He only opened the door when Morgana knocked at it and called for him.
"So?"
"Well, it's not my fault," Morgana replied. "And that's about the only good news I have. Apparently, your body is mass-producing the pheromones, and they're not...going away."
"It's getting stronger?"
"Oh, yes!" Morgana said. "It took me a while to figure out what Dr. Bellum was talking about. But yes, it's getting worse. Dr. Bellum thinks the reason it's getting stronger is because the pheromones haven't...'paid off', so to speak."
"Wha?"
Morgana cleared her throat. "You know."
"Oh." Darkwing felt his stomach lurch. "Oh!"
"Yes. Dr. Bellum is reviewing some...interesting journals. She thinks she might be able to make something to help you, but it will take a few days. And, well, it'll take a few days."
"During which I'll get more and more attractive to other people. Yes, I can see how this is a problem."
Morgana coughed, and looked away. "Dr. Bellum mentioned some...ways you could...take care of the problem."
"Are any of them ones I could handle on my own?" Darkwing asked.
"...No. Sorry. It's a...two-man job." Morgana's cheeks were faintly pink. "I can't believe I have to be the one to say this. Darkwing, she doesn't know how strong this is going to get. Your options are...agree to have yourself locked up or...take care of it."
Darkwing could feel his own cheeks heating. "Then I guess I'll lock myself up. I'm not going to...just to make my life easier."
"I thought you might. I'll...visit as long as this doesn't...you know."
"Yeah. Could you make sure Launchpad and Gosalyn know I'm here?"
"Of course."
"And Morgana?"
"Yes, Darkwing?" She was beautiful, Darkwing realized. If he'd been someone else entirely, he probably could have loved her. Of course, if he were someone else entirely, he probably wouldn't have been able to get around the 'sorceress' hurdle.
"Thank you."
The room they locked him in wasn't that bad. It was large, comfortable, and completely airtight, with a venting system to ensure that no one who got near the room didn't smell the pheromones. It was mostly boring; a few S.H.U.S.H. agents in full hazmat suits (the pheromones, Dr. Bellum explained briefly, were now so concentrated that they affected people through the skin) had delivered a few books, but Darkwing couldn't help but worry about the crime levels outside the S.H.U.S.H. headquarters.
And then Launchpad visited him in his cell, and Darkwing had a new worry to focus on.
"You let Gosalyn out at night to fight crime?"
Launchpad cringed in the face of Darkwing's anger. "I'm sorry, DW! But it's okay; I've been making sure she doesn't do anything dangerous."
"You mean beside FIGHTING CRIME?"
"You know she'd just get involved in your cases anyway, DW. We're both pitching in to make sure everything goes well while you're indisposed."
"You feeling anything yet, Launchpad?"
Launchpad sniffed at the air. "Hm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Only one of the guys who brought in my breakfast this morning forgot to seal one of the locks in his hazmat suit, and they had to pry him off of me."
Launchpad shrugged. "Man. Those pheromones are powerful. Good thing we got them away from Bushroot before he could use them."
"Bushroot...?" Darkwing lunged forward and grabbed the front of Launchpad's shirt. "Launchpad! You have to find Bushroot!"
"Wha-? Visiting hours aren't over for twenty minutes, DW-"
"Launchpad, Bushroot made these pheromones, and all we did was ruin one batch. He's probably making more right now! You have to stop him before he does something terrible with them!"
"Oh!" Launchpad blanched, then pushed himself to his feet. "You're right! I won't let you down, DW! I'll find Bushroot and stop his dastardly plot!" He sprinted to the door and wrenched it open; he then kicked open the door to the airlock without closing the first door.
"Launchpad! No!"
Three passing interns threw themselves at the door to the cell; Darkwing threw himself against the inner one to hold it closed. "Dr. Bellum! We've got a breach!"
Several exciting minutes later, Darkwing was left again stewing, waiting for Dr. Bellum to fix him. She'd apparently run into some difficulty in synthesizing one or another hormone; Darkwing didn't quite understand what she was trying to do, but she was confident it would work, so he had faith.
Eventually, he decided to take the opportunity to relax. Launchpad and Gosalyn were handling the criminals; despite his worry, he knew deep down they could take care of themselves. So he didn't have anything he had to do until Dr. Bellum fixed the problem.
This almost ensured the existence of a catastrophe; this only occurred to Darkwing when Agent Grizzlikof burst in (clad in two hazmat suits). "Darkwing! We have a problem."
Darkwing closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink. "Bushroot kidnapped Launchpad and Quiverwing Quack."
"How did you know?" Grizzlikof asked, taken aback. "I only just heard myself."
"I've begun to recognize the signs," Darkwing replied. "So...where, when, how, what?" He began to pace. "We need a plan of attack. Where's Bushroot holed up? Why am I asking that; he's in the botanical gardens, isn't he? There's labs and hydroponic farms where he could formulate his crazy pheromones."
"Darkwing, I'm not letting you out of here," Grizzlikof growled. "I was just warning you so that you wouldn't accidentally overhear anyone talking about it and rush off like-" Darkwing lunged for the door; luckily, Grizzlikof's hazmat suit made him move slowly. Less luckily, a group of student agents were passing through the detention area when Darkwing emerged.
"We use these cells to hold criminals and individuals who, for one reason or another, are hazardous to the general population. For example, Darkwing here, who is not only a crimefighter, but also the most attractive duck I have ever laid eyes on."
"Sorry!" Darkwing shouted as he vaulted over the group. "No time to chat! Eat your vegetables and listen to your senior agents!"
When he got to the motor pool, Darkwing used his new-found pheromone powers to distract the secretary long enough to get the keys to a sports car. What then followed was a frantic drive across town; Darkwing skidded to a halt just at the gates of the botanical gardens, and leapt from the car.
Darkwing sprinted through several alcoves before he slowed and realized he had to think. To plan.
"If I were an evil, plant-based villain, where in the botanical gardens would I be hiding?" Darkwing mused.
"The shed over there leads to the hydroponic farms underground," a soft voice said.
Darkwing glanced up; a young dog was sitting on a bench on one end of the alcove, next to a display of black tulips. Darkwing didn't move, acutely aware of the fact that the dog had no protection, and Darkwing was upwind. And then he realized that the dog was the same one who worked at the supermarket. He tensed, ready to bolt.
"Darkwing Duck, right? I see your pictures in the paper all the time."
"Hey, kid," Darkwing replied. "Good to meet a member of the public. And this shed, is it locked or anything?"
"Uh, no. They have tours and stuff." Darkwing turned to leave, but then the boy spoke up. "Look, I know this is a little...odd, but do you have any experience with love?"
"Not really, kid. It's hard to have a proper social life when you're a masked vigilante."
"Oh. Couse...I...god, I don't know how to say this. Last week, I was at work, you know, totally minding my own business, and then wham! This guy comes in, and it's all I can do to keep my hands off of him. And then it happened again three days ago! Do you know what it's like to have everything you know about yourself thrown into chaos by a single, aloof man?"
"Um...yes? Look, I don't really have time to talk, but..." Darkwing paused. "Wait, are you feeling okay?"
"Yes! Better than ever! You see, I've been thinking. And, well, talking to my dad. Cause I thought I was straight. And I figured, for me to be attracted to this guy, either I wasn't as straight as I thought, or this guy had crazy pheromone powers or something. And that sort of thing only happens to Louie and the guys, so here we are."
"Yeah, but..." There was no way to point out that this kid ought to be salivating over Darkwing, because otherwise he'd realize that Darkwing and the guy from the supermarket were the same duck. "Look, I'm really glad that you're having personal revelations, but I've got crime to fight. And it might be pretty time-sensitive, so-"
"Oh." The kid actually looked disappointed. Darkwing tried to resist, but the kid was only a few years older than Gosalyn, and the paternal instinct she'd awakened was speaking up.
"Look, kid-"
"Max."
"Max. Don't over-think this. You're young. Maybe you find boys attractive. Maybe you find girls attractive. Or both. Or none. Whatever. You said you talked to your dad. And if he's okay with it, you don't need to worry. Just be yourself."
"And what if I think I'm in love?"
Hoo boy. At the very least, that would explain why the kid seemed to be oblivious to the pheromones. "Well, I can't say I have a lot of experience there, kid. Just being attracted to someone isn't enough. Just liking them isn't enough. If you can imagine spending the rest of your life with him and not being bored, and if he makes you laugh, and feel happy, and if you know he's got your back - oh my god, Launchpad!"
"What?"
"I really gotta go, kid! I'm sorry. I hope it works out!" Darkwing sprinted towards the shed, heart pounding.
The hydroponic labs, sterile and full of steaming vials and bottle, were in fact where Bushroot was holed up. However, he was not actually threatening Gosalyn or Launchpad. He was pacing in front of a chalkboard.
"No, no, no! This is not going to work. I don't care what Dr. Bellum said."
"But Bushroot-"
"Do you have a PhD in chemical biology?" he demanded of Launchpad. "No? Then don't tell me how this works! I will admit I'm glad that I discovered this fatal flaw in the formula before I tried to market it, but the current situation is upsetting. I suppose removing his blood is out."
"Uh, duh!" Gosalyn snapped.
"Okay!" Bushroot shouted. "I'm not an animal biologist."
"Excuse me, can anyone explain what's going on here?"
Bushroot, Launchpad, and Gosalyn whirled about to face him, with looks of annoyance, shock, and embarrassment on their faces.
"Um, uh. Well, you see, DW, we were gonna stop Bushroot, but then it turned out he was trying to market a new cologne, which is what got dumped on you. So then we've been brainstorming to figure out how to keep the cologne from becoming stronger and stronger until people are throwing themselves at you."
"What?"
"We're trying to fix your problem, Da-Darkwing," Gosalyn announced. "So far, we think the only way out is for you to get it on with someone."
"I-you-I thought you were in trouble!" Darkwing snapped. "I came rushing down here to rescue you two because I thought Bushroot was planning to kill you! I was worried sick!"
"Aw, it was okay, DW. I was with her the whole time."
"No, it's not just Gosalyn, Launchpad. We've been partners for four-almost five years now. You're part of Gosalyn's family. You've always got my back. And-you make me laugh, Launchpad. You got me watching those crazy adventure movies. And I-I don't what I'd do without you."
"I..." Launchpad's beak dropped open. "I..." He half-closed his eyes, and smiled uncertainly at Darkwing. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, DW."
"Uh, Darkwing, Bushroot and I are going to go to one of the other labs and keep brainstorming. So...enjoy yourselves. Come on, let's go, Doctor."
"What? No!" Darkwing recognized that look in Launchpad's eyes. "Gosalyn, you can't leave me alone with him! The pheromones are getting to him!" Gosalyn, however, had dragged Bushroot out the door. Darkwing whirled back towards Launchpad. "Launchpad, get ahold of yourself. You've gone this long without the pheromones affecting you."
Launchpad flushed, and, embarrassed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, I'm pretty sure they were working fine on me, DW."
"But you haven't tried to jump me or anything!"
"Well, I'm sort of used to it," Launchpad replied. He let his gaze drift to the ceiling.
"Used to what?"
Launchpad took a deep breath and looked down, meeting Drake's gaze. "I'm used to being attracted to you, D-Drake. So, I mean, the pheromone thing didn't really change anything. Except, you know, the competition."
"Competition? Are you serious? Launchpad, the only person out there I could care about more than you is Gosalyn."
"Wow. That's..." Launchpad's smile became more of a grin. "I mean...do you...?" He shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not normally this tongue-tied, DW, but, you know, I'm nervous."
"What's there to be nervous about, Launchpad? It's just me. What am I going to do?"
"I...have no idea." When Drake laughed, Launchpad grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "I'm serious, DW. I have no idea what you're saying. Are you attracted to me? Are you just telling me you're okay with me being attracted to you? Are you telling me to leave?"
"Hell, no! Launchpad, you are my best friend."
Launchpad shook his head. "Nope. Still not getting it, DW."
"Oh, for heaven's-" Drake grabbed Launchpad and kissed him.
"There! Does that answer your question?"
Launchpad looked thoroughly dazed, but he was smiling. "No, not really. But hey. I'll take it."
Gosalyn had probably done something to ensure no one would show up; it was probably something to worry about, her having any part in planning this. But Drake didn't have the time or inclination to worry about that until much later, after he returned to S.H.U.S.H. to apologize for the fracas.
The receptionist screamed and lunged for a jar of peppermints when Drake walked in the door.
"Oh, calm down," he said, waving his hand dismissively at her. "You're in no danger. Where's Grizzlikof? I want to apologize to him."
"I am right here, Darkwing. We have been expecting you." Grizzlikof, dressed in a hazmat suit, stepped out from behind a plant. Several other agents, similarly dressed, appeared. "Now put your hands up and don't do anything arousing."
"Oh, for-I'm not a threat anymore, Vlad! Look at the receptionist!"
Grizzlikof did, staring at her for a few long moments. When she showed no sign of wanting to tackle Darkwing, he nodded.
"So you found a cure?"
"Ah...not exactly. That is, I...took...care of it."
Grizzlikof nodded. "Ah. I see. I think we can close this case without further elaborating on the circumstances, situation, or identity of your...assisstant."
"Oh. Right. In fact, we don't have to talk about any part of this case ever again, right?"
"Exactly."
"Good. We can all be happy that this embarrassing incident is safely behind us. Now don't come back here unless we call you."
"Sure thing."
Outside, Launchpad was leaning against the motorcycle. When he saw Darkwing, he grinned and waved.
"Hey! They let you go?"
"Ah, yep yep yep yep. I explained everything so well they didn't need to ask any questions."
"Really? I figured they'd rather just not think about it. I mean, you had some of those agents acting pretty funny."
"You know what? Never mind. Let's go home."
"Sure thing, DW." He paused, and glanced back at Darkwing. "Hey...did you get around to telling them how you...got over it?"
Darkwing rolled his eyes. "Frankly, I don't think they wanted to know. And I'd rather not talk about it. The whole thing was embarrassing."
"D-Drake, you don't mind if people know about...this, right?"
"What?" Drake glanced at Launchpad, who was looking, well, meek. Uncertain. "Oh, lord. Launchpad, you realize all of Gosalyn's teachers, and for the matter, most of her classmates, have thought we've been dating since fourth grade, don't you?"
"Wha?"
"Why do you think they always invited you to the parent-teacher conferences?"
"I..." Launchpad blinked a few times, still uncertain. "So you're okay with it?"
"If I was okay with it before, when we weren't, why wouldn't I be now that I've actually got the...benefits of dating you?"
"Really?" Launchpad's eyes teared up, and he pulled Drake up into a tight hug. "Thanks, DW."
"Ack! Too tight! Too tight!" Drake wheezed. Launchpad loosened his grip, still grinning like a loon. And he was entitled, Drake supposed. From what Launchpad had told him, he'd felt like this for years, and was probably still a little in shock. So was Drake, but that was just as understandable. Except of course, it sounded a little silly to say he'd only recently realized he was in love with the duck he was living with.
Nevertheless, he was sure things were going to work out. After all, they were superheroes. They could do anything they put their minds to. And right now, they had a few hours to themselves.
"Come on, let's get out of the middle of the street."
Launchpad winked. "Sure thing, DW."
Rating: For Older Kids (13+, roughly)
Fandom: Darkwing Duck
Summary:
This is inspired by a search for Darkwing fanfic that didn't involve explicit Megavolt or Bushroot sex, I admit I went as close as I could manage. Anyhoo, it's reasonably kid-friendly (PG-13 at worst), so I hope you enjoy.
"Freeze, Bushroot!"
Bushroot, unsurprisingly, didn't. Instead, he snapped his fingers (roots? Darkwing had never quite figured that out), and the vines arcing over the door to the greenhouse reached down to entangle him and Launchpad.
This escalated, as fights with villains did, into a pitched battle. Bushroot's laboratory made it more exciting than even a fight in Bushroot's greenhouse should be; there were vials of vile-smelling liquid Darkwing did not want to get on his cape, hotplates, and steam clouding his vision in obscure corners of the greenhouse.
Launchpad, to his credit, was doing a good job distracting Bushroot's plants, so that Darkwing could focus on the real threat. Admittedly, the "distraction" consisted of him being easily caught and an entertaining captive, but at some point halfway through Gosalyn's middle-school career, Darkwing had given up caring about the means by which he got results. As long as evil was defeated, the ignominy Darkwing suffered in the process was negligible.
Most of the time.
Darkwing ducked under a too-friendly weeping willow and crashed into a table containing a bowl of fluorescent greenish-yellow purple powder. It looked sinister enough that dumping it around the greenhouse would probably mess up Bushroot's plans, so Darkwing grabbed it and turned to where he could hear Bushroot wading through the sea of plants in the greenhouse.
It took a few seconds for Darkwing to realize that the bowl, a ceramic disc, had been sitting on a hot plate and was, therefore, very, very hot. He screamed and tossed the bowl straight up. Bushroot and Launchpad burst through the nearest thicket just as the bowl landed back on Darkwing's head, accompanied by a shower of sparkling powder.
"Uh oh," Bushroot whispered. "Look, it's been fun and all, but I gotta go. Now."
"Hang on, Bushroot," Darkwing snapped. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to explain what you're up to and we're going to stop it. Right, Launchpad?"
Launchpad didn't answer immediately. "Launchpad?"
"Are you sure you're okay, DW? You look...different."
"What?" Darkwing frantically glanced down at his outfit and body; he didn't see anything out of the ordinary other than the fine layer of powder covering him. He glanced back at Launchpad; his sidekick's figure loomed over him, much closer than Darkwing had expected. "Yah! Don't sneak up on me, Launchpad!"
Launchpad's face fell. He took a hesitant step back, but then reached a hand out to Darkwing. "Are you sure you're okay? That stuff looks...glowy."
"We don't have time for that!" Darkwing snapped. "We've got to catch-" then he stopped, eyes widening. "Where'd Bushroot go?"
"Oh." Launchpad flushed. "Sorry, Darkwing. I guess he ran off when you were distracted." He reached out to brush away the dust on Darkwing's shoulder. "But we still stopped Bushroot from doing whatever he was doing, right? We can get the cops down here to clean this mess up, and call it a night."
Darkwing took a deep breath, then took a quick glance around the greenhouse, now absent any maniacal half-plant, half-duck supervillain.
"Sure. I have to take a bath anyway. Do you think this stuff is going to stain? Because if it does, I'm sending Bushroot a bill for my drycleaning."
Launchpad put a steadying hand on Darkwing's shoulder and led him out to the waiting Thunderquack.
But he kept giving Darkwing odd looks, and occasionally reaching out, pausing, and then brushing off a little more of the dust from Darkwing's jacket.
It took Darkwing most of the way home to realize that the look Launchpad was giving him was his nervous look; this made Darkwing himself nervous, because he felt fine. Thus, either he looked terrible or was acting oddly. Darkwing didn't think he was acting oddly, but if he were acting oddly, he doubted he'd notice.
Nevertheless, nervous transformed into worried, and Launchpad helped Darkwing out of the plane at the hideout before they headed home. He was obviously worried for Darkwing, so when they got home, Drake took a quick shower and went straight to bed. Hopefully, things would look better in the morning.
They weren't. Yes, Launchpad wasn't shooting him weird looks, and Gosalyn seemed cheerful enough for a fourteen-year-old girl. But Drake had to go grocery shopping, and it was when he got to the store that things started getting weird.
He kept getting the feeling he was being watched, although no amount of whirling around revealed the identity of his stalker. And then the canary running the deli kept winking at him. Darkwing was thoroughly on edge by the time he got to the cash registers.
He was fourth in line, and there was a significant line behind him when he felt someone pinch his butt. He whirled, nearly upsetting his basket, and glared at the crowd behind him. While no one seemed to be the likely culprit, almost every member of the crowd was staring at him.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Drake demanded.
The woman directly behind him, a middle-aged cow, smiled at Drake and leaned close.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that face, honey," she crooned. "In fact-"
"Next," the cashier droned. Drake turned away hurriedly and came face-to-face with the cashier, a teenaged dog who let out a terrified yelp and dropped a can of pinto beans.
"If you've dented that, I'm not paying for it," Drake snarled. The dog let out a strangled whine and ducked his head.
"I'm terribly sorry," he whimpered. "I'll...can I do anything to help you?" he asked hopefully.
"Just ring it up quickly; I'm a busy duck."
Annoyance and panic warred on the teen's face; in the end, he gave a tight nod and began ringing up Drake's groceries in something approaching record speed. However, about halfway through, Drake felt another pinch. He whirled on the crowd, reserving a special level of glare for the cow directly behind him.
"Okay, who did that?" No one answered, although Drake could now see that at least half of the men and women behind him were staring at him with expressions of vacant lust. It was a tremendously disturbing realization. "Do you want me to hold up this line until someone owns up to harassing me?" he demanded.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind if you kept us here all day," a fox near the back of the line drawled, swishing her tail seductively.
Drake began to twitch, slightly. He leaned forward, and heard a clatter from behind him. The cashier had dropped a jar of applesauce, and his face was flushed. He was staring at Drake's tail-except now that Drake had turned, his gaze was fixated on a completely different part of Drake's anatomy.
"You know what? I don't need food today," Drake announced. "Terribly sorry to bother you..." He almost leaned in to read the cashier's name tag, but then realized that would expose his tail to the crowd behind him. "But I've got to go. Bye!"
He sprinted from the grocery store, sped home, and locked himself in his bedroom until Launchpad returned from tuning up the Darkwing vehicles.
He could hear the door shut as Launchpad came in, and then Launchpad's slow jog up the stairs. A knock came at the door.
"DW? Are you decent?"
Drake blinked. Launchpad never knocked. He assumed there was never a bad time to drop in on Drake.
Scowling, Drake threw open the door and dragged Launchpad down to his level by the lapels. "Something weird is going on. You're looking at me like I'm going to drop dead, someone kept pinching my tail in the grocery store, and the cashier couldn't keep his eyes off of my ass!" He stalked from the room, dragging Launchpad along behind him. "We're going to S.H.U.S.H. If they can't tell me what's going on, no one can."
Darkwing watched Launchpad throughout the entire trip. He hadn't groped Darkwing, and wasn't staring at him. He was the same old Launchpad. That realization, however, left Darkwing confused about what exactly was happening. Oh, he'd be confused anyway, because the weird things supervillains did to him always confused Darkwing. But he'd almost gotten his head around it when the entire grocery store had looked at him like he was a three-course meal at the end of a long day. Something had made other people see him as remarkably attractive. However, the working hypothesis fell apart if Launchpad wasn't acting the same way.
"Hey, Launchpad?"
"Yeah, DW?"
"Do I look...different?"
Launchpad gave Darkwing a quick once-over, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Naw. You get a haircut or something?"
"No. I just...you don't feel anything...out of the ordinary when you look at me?"
Launchpad shook his head. "Should I?"
"Launchpad, at least a dozen people at the grocery store tried to molest me! Even for a dashing speciman of duck like myself, that's a little out of the ordinary. I can't help but feel that the powder Bushroot dumped on me-"
"Didn't you sort of dump that powder on yourself?" Launchpad asked.
"Regardless of who dumped that powder on me, this insanity started after it got dumped on me. People have been starting at me like..."
"Like you're a hot tamale?" Launchpad asked.
"Exactly! But you don't feel anything?"
"We're here," Launchpad announced, turning the motorcycle into a skid that stopped right in front of S.H.U.S.H. HQ. Darkwing opened his mouth to protest, but Launchpad was already vaulting out of the motorcycle. Darkwing scrambled after him, still confused. He'd known Launchpad long enough to know that sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between Launchpad being dense and Launchpad avoiding a topic. He wasn't, however, skilled enough to time their arrival to Darkwing's questions. So maybe Darkwing was overthinking things.
That theory went out the window when the receptionist started hyperventilating the moment Darkwing walked in the door.
"Mr. Duck!" she squealed. "It's so lovely to...see you." She fluttered her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. "What brings you to S.H.U.S.H.?"
"I'm here to see Dr. Bellum," Darkwing snapped. "As soon as possible."
"Oh," the receptionist sighed. "I see. I guess...I'll call her." She dramatically pressed a button on the intercom. "Dr. Bellum? Darkwing Duck here to see you." She glanced up at Darkwing, leaning over her desk. "So, are you doing anything later?"
"Yeah," Launchpad interjected. "He has a date with his girlfriend."
The receptionist visibly deflated, slumping forward on her desk. After a moment, however, she looked back up, smiling. "But you're not busy tomorrow night, are you?"
Darkwing sighed.
Luckily, Sarah Bellum took that moment to enter the lobby.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing. We cleaned up Bushroot's laboratory. It's a shame you didn't catch up with him, but I guess I'll forgive you. If you give me a nice, wet kiss."
Darkwing groaned.
"So, how about it?" Dr. Bellum took a few steps towards Darkwing before running her hands slowly down her lab coat. "I've never kissed a superhero before; think of it as an experiment."
"Uh, Dr. Bellum, we're sort of in a pickle. Something happened to DW-"
"Something happened?" Dr. Bellum pushed up her glasses. "Some sort of accident? Are you all right, Darkwing?" She glanced at Darkwing, gaze scanning up and down...and up and back down again. A tiny smile graced her bill. "Nothing looks wrong. In fact, he looks...wonderful."
"That's sort of the problem, Dr. Bellum. Ya see, everyone's been looking at DW like that."
"Like what?" Dr. Bellum glanced at Launchpad, if only briefly.
"Like..." Launchpad spread his arms. "Look, Doctor, could we talk...alone?"
Dr. Bellum glanced at Launchpad again, and then sighed. "Very well. I'll be back soon, Darkwing." She winked at Darkwing as Launchpad shoved her out of the room.
"So..." the receptionist began.
"Can it," Darkwing snarled. "You never looked at me twice the four years you've been working here. You're under the influence of some sort of crazy...dust thing!"
"Oh," she said, drooping. "Well, then maybe we should make out now while I still think you're attractive."
"That would be incredibly ill-advised, Molly." Dr. Bellum, now wearing an elaborate gas mask, re-entered the room, trailed by Launchpad. "Launchpad explained everything to me, Darkwing. I must apologize for being so...forward earlier. From what Launchpad told me, it seems likely that the powder you found in Bushroot's laboratory was some form of highly-concentrated pheromone."
"Phere-what?"
"Pheromones. Chemicals that induce automatic behavioral responses. Scents, really. In particular, I suspect what you were covered with are sex pheromones."
"Se-" Darkwing broke off. "You mean...people are actually attracted to...the way I smell?"
"Oh, yes." Dr. Bellum began pacing. "You told Launchpad that non-avians were affected by the pheromones?" Darkwing nodded. "That would suggest he's developed some form of universal pheromone. That's worrying."
"Worrying?" Darkwing asked.
"Well," Dr. Bellum replied, "pheromones are sensed by the Jacobson's organ, which is differently developed in different species. The effect of a single universal pheromone, therefore, will be proportional to the sensitivity of one's Jacobson's organ. Ducks, for example, have a reasonably strong organ. Dogs, however, would probably find a pheromone we find irresistable equivalent to a fast-acting aphrodasiac."
The panicked cashier at the grocery store suddenly made a lot more sense, Darkwing decided. Suddenly, Darkwing was lifted bodily into the air, a pair of arms tight around his chest.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing," Agent Grizzlikof practically purred. "Are you aware that you smell proactively...radiant?"
"And bears, whose sense of smell is approximately seven times better than that of bloodhounds, would probably be incapable of ignoring the chemical demands pheromones make. Here, Agent Grizzlikof." She raised a small purfume bottle and spritzed it in Darkwing's face. His nose was assaulted with the smell of...peppermint?
Grizzlikof's grip loosened. "What are you doing? What am I doing? What is going on-" He paused, thinking. Then he dropped Darkwing and backed away. "What's gotten into me? What's going on here, Dr. Bellum? Why are you wearing a gas mask?"
"Darkwing seems to have been exposed to a particularly efficacious pheromone," Dr. Bellum replied mildly. "You shouldn't feel too badly, sir. Given your sense of smell, I'm afraid that bear hug was the mildest response you could manage when exposed to the effects."
"Phero-" Grizzlikof rubbed his forehead wearily. "Why does this sort of thing always seem to happen when Darkwing Duck shows up? So what are we doing about it? Are we all wearing gas masks?"
"For anyone exposed to Darkwing for an extended period of time, that would be ideal," Dr. Bellum replied. "But for short-term exposures, peppermint oil ought to suffice. Anything with a strong scent ought to work, but peppermint is less likely to irritate one's nose."
"And what are we proposing to do in the long-term, Doctor?" Grizzlikof asked.
"I'm going to take samples and see if I can't analyze the pheromones, and if we can manage, the dust residue. And then we'll see what we can do."
"You better fix this quickly, Doctor," Grizzlikof muttered. "I hate peppermint."
Dr. Bellum's tests took three hours of poking, scraping, and her quietly humming as she mixed chemicals and looked at microscopes. She spent the entire time wearing her gas mask; Launchpad, on the other hand, remained cheerfully, obliviously unmasked the entire time.
"It seems that we were right. This is similar to the pheromones of several different species, but with a strong component that resembles plant matter."
"Great. How do we stop it?"
"I'm...still working on that." Dr. Bellum flipped through several pages of notes. "I'm going to ask you to take careful observations while you're still under the effects of the pheromones, however. If you notice anything unusual beyond the parameters we've already established, please tell me. The more I know, the better the chance I can help you get rid of it."
"What does it mean if Launchpad isn't affected?" Darkwing asked.
"Pardon?"
"Or Gosalyn, for that matter."
"Oh! Gosalyn, I can explain. These are pheromones, Darkwing. Essentially, they are chemical imperatives to...mate. Your daughter is not fully mature, and as a result, is incapable of responding to the imperative."
"So, you're saying if she were older...?" Darkwing scrunched up his face, feeling more than a little queasy.
"I'm not certain," Dr. Bellum replied. "It's possible that certain feelings mitigate the effects of the pheromones. It's possible that a person in a committed relationship, or in love, might not react to the pheromones. And a young woman you've raised as your daughter might also be immune. I can't say for certain."
Darkwing nodded, but he reflected on Dr. Bellum's first point. Love? Was it possible that there was some woman that had won Launchpad's heart? It was a sobering, and somewhat upsetting, thought. He thought Launchpad and he were friends; that Launchpad would keep something this big from him hurt. And the thought of Launchpad dating some woman made Darkwing inexplicably unconfortable. But then, it wasn't that odd. They were a team, and if Launchpad had a girlfriend, it would interrupt their dynamic. And it was possible she'd take Launchpad away from him.
So he didn't hear the rest of Dr. Bellum's speech, which was just as well. When he actually listened to her, she tended to say upsetting things.
But she had pointed out something important. The pheromones didn't work on people who already had strong feelings towards him. And that meant he could fight crime without fear of being molested; no one who hated him as much as any of his enemies would ever dream of being attracted to him.
So Darkwing was reasonably cheerful, even if the mystery of Launchpad's love interest was still bothering him. That night, on patrol, when they took a break to stake out the bank, he even felt relaxed enough to ask Launchpad about it.
"So, who's the mystery woman?"
"Whaddya mean, DW?" Launchpad gave Darkwing a very good approximation of a look of innocence.
"I mean, you're totally unaffected by these pheromones, and Dr. Bellum said that means you're in love with someone else. So who is she?"
"Oh..." Launchpad flushed deeply. "I...Well, I-it's not something I feel comfortable talking about, DW. Y'see..."
A thought struck Darkwing. "It's not Morgana, is it?"
"Ah, no," Launchpad replied. "Definitely not."
"Then who is it? Dr. Bellum?"
Launchpad shook his head.
"Come on! You can tell me. I thought I was your buddy!"
Launchpad's eyes widened, and he shook his head, sharply.
"Launchpad," Darkwing said carefully, "I'm not going to make fun of you. I just want to know who you're in love with."
"It's not..." Launchpad whimpered. "Not..."
"What? What is it, Launchpad?"
"Megavolt-" Launchpad choked out, and then everything went white and sparky in an immensely familiar way.
"Drake," Megavolt growled. "I'm so surprised to see you. You look...different."
"DW..." Launchpad said warningly.
Megavolt was standing at the edge of the rooftop Darkwing had chosen as their vantage point; he was leaning against an exhaust pipe, eyes focused on Darkwing. He looked...nonchalant.
No, Darkwing corrected. He still looked like a maniac. But his grin was about fifty watts lower, he was resting against a piece of the scenery rather than looking like he was about to explode, and his eyes hadn't moved from Darkwing for over five seconds, so it was obvious he was trying to look nonchalant.
"Did you cut your hair? Get a new outfit? Been working out?"
"Ah...Megavolt? Now might be a good time to tell you that I've been exposed to some sort of lust perfume, so if you're feeling...um...excited, that's the chemicals talking."
Megavolt shook his head, still grinning. "You may be saying it's the perfume, Darkwing, but my body's telling me something very different. Do you know what it's saying, Darkwing?"
"Yes," Darkwing said. "So please don't elaborate."
"Oh, I won't. Some things are better when they're left up to your...imagination," Megavolt sighed. He ran a finger down his chest, grin turning distinctly lascivious, and Darkwing, who had never wanted to connect that word to Megavolt, wished that there was a reliable way to erase that image from his brain.
"Launchpad?" Darkwing squeaked.
Megavolt's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? Are you-are you trying to steal him?" He growled. "I will not let you ruin my chance to finally get it on with Darkwing!" His hands began sparking, and Darkwing would not admit, even under threat of torture, that he whimpered. But he would cheerfully admit that he was distracted enough not thinking about what Megavolt wanted to do to him that he didn't see exactly what Launchpad did to dissuade him. Needless to say, a few busy seconds later, Megavolt was no longer on the roof, Launchpad had Darkwing tucked under one arm, and he was sprinting towards where Darkwing had parked the motorcycle.
"Launchpad? What did you do?"
Launchpad didn't slow his stride, but shouted in Darkwing's direction. "I knocked him into some garbage. I figured if he got trash up his nose, it'd cancel out the pheromones and he'd go back to normal. Or as normal as he ever gets. But I still figured when he got up he'd be mad."
"So, let's fight him!"
"I don't think that's a good idea, DW." Launchpad hopped onto a fire escape, still carrying Darkwing. "In fact, I think you're not going to fight crime until this pheromone thing runs it course."
"What? No! Darkwing Duck does not back away from a challenge!"
"Then let me ask you this." Launchpad landed on the ground next to the motorcycle and put Darkwing down. "What do you think Negaduck would do if he were attracted to you?"
"Ah-"
"Or Quackerjack? I bet he could cobble together some pretty uncomfortable games for the two of you to play."
"Urk-"
"Or the Liquidator?"
Darkwing didn't answer for a moment. "Does he even have a nose?"
"Do you want to find out?"
"Point taken. Let's go home."
It took less than three days for Drake to get bored; Gosalyn was never home, and Launchpad was taking care of all the errands Drake couldn't do for fear of being assaulted. The morning of the fourth day dawned, and Drake realized, guiltily, that he hadn't spoken to Morgana since the entire fiasco had started.
So the moment Launchpad left to do the shopping, Drake called her.
"Darkwing!" she cried. "It's so lovely to hear from you!"
"Hey, Morgana. Sorry it's been so long. I just-"
"Oh, it's all right, Darkwing. I know you're busy. I knew what I was getting into when I starting dating a superhero. So, how about dinner tonight?"
"Oh. I can't really get out of the house today, Morgana."
"Oh." Morgana sighed. "How about tomorrow?"
"Look, Morgana, how about I make dinner over here?"
"That sounds wonderful, Darkwing! I'll be over at seven!"
At around three, Drake began to worry. Of course, he'd been the one to invite Morgana over, but that had been because Drake didn't think before he spoke. He hadn't considered what he'd do when faced with a woman he actually quite liked, who presumably felt the same way, once the pheromones hit.
The concern distracted him as he prepared dinner, and by the time he saw Gosalyn off to the Muddlefoots' to spend the evening, Drake's hands were shaking.
He almost considered calling to cancel, but then the doorbell rang.
Drake whispered a quiet prayer, and then opened the front door.
"Morgana!"
Morgana smiled at him. "Drake! Oh my, I always forget how lovely your house is." She nodded towards the interior. "Can I come in?"
"Oh! Of course." Drake stepped aside. "Come on in, my lady."
She smiled and crossed the threshold, a faint smile on her beak. "You said you couldn't leave the house today. Is it something work-related?"
Drake sighed. "It's probably better if I tell you now. I got covered in this...dust. Dr. Bellum called it pheromones. For the past couple of days, every time I get close to someone, they get a little...excited."
"Oh!" Morgana put one finger to her beak. After a moment, her eyes widened. "Oh! But I-" She broke off, and took a step away from Drake. "Oh."
"Oh...what?" Drake asked.
"I'm...I don't feel it," Morgana replied.
"That's impossible," Drake said. "Everyone is affected. Except kids. And anyone who's in love...with someone else."
Morgana burst into tears.
"Morgana?"
She shook her head, body shaking with sobs. "I tried. I really did, Drake! I like you; I really do. But...I just..." She wailed, a long, drawn-out cry. Drake reached out, uncertainly, to pat her shoulder.
"It's all right, Morgana. Really."
"No, it isn't," she sobbed. "I've been leading you on for years, and that's a horrible thing to do."
"No, really! It's okay!"
Morgana gave Drake an uncertain, teary glance. "Really?"
"I..." Drake frowned. He wasn't certain if it was all right, but he didn't feel nearly as upset as he ought to be. Of course he was glad she wasn't throwing herself at him, like almost everyone had been for the past several days.
Of course, the fact that he was glad his girlfriend wasn't attracted to him probably was a sign that the entire relationship was flawed.
"Yeah. I think so." He took a deep breath. "To be honest, it's good to be talking to someone who's not staring at me like...you know. Other than Launchpad."
"Launchpad?" Morgana frowned, and tapped a finger against her beak. "Are you sure?"
"He hasn't tried to grab my tail yet," Drake replied. "I think that's a good sign."
"What, so he hasn't reacted at all?"
"No. He's the same old Launchpad. It's a little frustrating. How about you? Are you sure you don't feel anything? Not even a little bit of attraction?"
"Oh, Darkwing," Morgana laughed. "Of course you're attractive. I just...I was projecting a little, I guess. I met a great man ages ago in school, and he was funny, and attractive, and didn't have an ounce of magic in him. You remind me of him. So...yes, I suppose I'm a little attracted to you. But you're just not Poe." She sighed, and gave Drake a sidelone glance. "Are you sure you aren't upset?"
"Like I said, it's more of a relief that this thing isn't making you act weird." Drake grinned at Morgana it what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Whatever happened to your man, though?"
"I don't really know," Morgana replied. "He just up and disappeared one day. It's vexing."
"Maybe you should look for him. If you don't have to stick around your boyfriend, I'm sure you could use some magic thingie to find him."
"Magic...oh! I could try to find a way to help!"
Drake opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it closed. Now was not the time to annoy Morgana. "I...didn't think botany was your forte."
"Oh, not really. I did minor in alchemy at Eldritch Academy, however. I'm good with chemistry. And because I don't have any with you, I should be able to figure out how to negate this concoction."
"Oh..." Drake tried to think of a reason to decline, but Morgana looked hopeful, and Drake was getting desperate. "Fine."
What followed was three hours of Morgana poking him, mixing arcane concoctions in Drake's cookware, and frequent consultations of Morgana's spellbook.
At the end, Drake was ready to go to sleep; Morgana seemed as fresh as she had when she arrived. It came of being nocturnal, Drake thought darkly. Or possibly being a semi-immortal creature of magic.
But she had finished something she called an "anti-love potion," a reddish-greenish yellow sludge in a tiny vial.
"Normally, it would make you abhorrent to anyone who met you. But it should counteract the effects of the pheromones. I think. I hope."
"I'm willing to try anything," Drake replied. He sniffed at the potion, recoiling when the scent of burning grease hit his nose. "Almost. Do I drink this?"
"Oh, heavens no! It would probably kill you." She emptied the vial into a small spritz bottle. "It's like a perfume." She sprayed a few squirts of the fluid over Drake. "In this case, I'd say you need the entire bottle."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Drake snarled. He took the bottle and gingerly began spraying himself with it. "How will I know if it works?"
"Well, you'll have to find someone who was attracted to you before and see if they still are," Morgana said.
"I have to go outside?" Drake demanded. "But if it didn't work..." He shuddered.
"Where's that fearless attitude I know and love?" Morgana asked. "You can't possibly be frightened of a little attention."
"Frightened? Darkwing Duck isn't frightened of anything! Come on; let's get dangerous."
Drake drove Morgana to the grocery store; she seemed intent on seeing the effects of her potion. Drake, on the other hand, was feeling anxious. Morgana didn't have a long history of unqualified success, and from his long experience, Drake knew that things tended to get worse a lot more easily than they got better.
But he put on a brave face as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. Morgana had been working all night, so it was 8 o'clock and the store was opening. A younger dog was sweeping the front walk. However, he snapped his head up when Drake opened the door of the car.
As Drake approached, the dog laid his ears back, and his cheeks, neck, and forehead flushed. He was starting to sweat; behind Drake, Morgana was hurrying forward.
"Drake-"
The dog's broom snapped in half as he wrenched it in two opposite directions. The sound seemed to break him out of his apparent trance, although he didn't look away from Drake. However, the boy's eyes widened in horror and embarrassment, and he darted away from Drake and into the automatic door behind him.
"Drake, I don't think that was necessary. Or very nice," Morgana chided. "Are you going to help that poor boy?" The boy was rubbing his head, scowling, from the ground.
"I doubt he'd appreciate me getting any closer, Morgana. Let's get back in the car; this obviously hasn't worked. I need to see Dr. Bellum anyway."
As Drake drove away from the supermarket, he could see the boy staring after them, a look of panic and confusion on his face.
He called ahead to S.H.U.S.H., on the theory that they would appreciate the time to stock up on peppermint spray and gas masks.
Indeed, when they arrived, the receptionist was wearing a gas mask, and was pointing a small bottle at Darkwing as she would a gun.
"Good afternoon, Darkwing, sir. We've been expecting you. And this must be Miss Macawber." She reached out to shake Morgana's hand, but paused as Darkwing stepped up next to her. She spritzed the air around the two of them with peppermint, and then nodded at Morgana. "Dr. Bellum is in her laboratory. You can both go right in."
Dr. Bellum was examining slides through a microscope when Darkwing entered; she was wearing a mask that covered her beak but not her eyes. She looked up when he and Morgana walked in, and nodded to them.
"Darkwing. Miss Macawber." She frowned, slightly. "Now, you told us that you attempted to reverse the effects of the pheromones with some sort of potion?"
"Yes, but it didn't work at all. We tested it out, and this boy nearly had a heart attack when Darkwing got too close to him."
"Understandable, given how fantastically gorgeous he is," Dr. Bellum replied off-handedly. Then her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her beak. "Oh, dear. Gas mask, where's my gas mask?" She fumbled for a heavier gas mask, but dropped it before she could slip it over her face. "But who needs that old thing, anyway? It would just dampen that lovely scent you're wearing."
"Morgana..." Darkwing whined.
The sorceress swung into action without batting an eye. She shoved Darkwing into the hallway and slammed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, she emerged with an empty syringe to take his blood.
"Dr. Bellum is worried I might have made the problem worse," Morgana said apologetically.
"Par for the course, unfortunately," Darkwing replied. "So, that's for me?"
"I'm sorry."
An hour later, Darkwing had locked himself in a closet rather than face the possibility of an amorous Agent Grizzlikof. He only opened the door when Morgana knocked at it and called for him.
"So?"
"Well, it's not my fault," Morgana replied. "And that's about the only good news I have. Apparently, your body is mass-producing the pheromones, and they're not...going away."
"It's getting stronger?"
"Oh, yes!" Morgana said. "It took me a while to figure out what Dr. Bellum was talking about. But yes, it's getting worse. Dr. Bellum thinks the reason it's getting stronger is because the pheromones haven't...'paid off', so to speak."
"Wha?"
Morgana cleared her throat. "You know."
"Oh." Darkwing felt his stomach lurch. "Oh!"
"Yes. Dr. Bellum is reviewing some...interesting journals. She thinks she might be able to make something to help you, but it will take a few days. And, well, it'll take a few days."
"During which I'll get more and more attractive to other people. Yes, I can see how this is a problem."
Morgana coughed, and looked away. "Dr. Bellum mentioned some...ways you could...take care of the problem."
"Are any of them ones I could handle on my own?" Darkwing asked.
"...No. Sorry. It's a...two-man job." Morgana's cheeks were faintly pink. "I can't believe I have to be the one to say this. Darkwing, she doesn't know how strong this is going to get. Your options are...agree to have yourself locked up or...take care of it."
Darkwing could feel his own cheeks heating. "Then I guess I'll lock myself up. I'm not going to...just to make my life easier."
"I thought you might. I'll...visit as long as this doesn't...you know."
"Yeah. Could you make sure Launchpad and Gosalyn know I'm here?"
"Of course."
"And Morgana?"
"Yes, Darkwing?" She was beautiful, Darkwing realized. If he'd been someone else entirely, he probably could have loved her. Of course, if he were someone else entirely, he probably wouldn't have been able to get around the 'sorceress' hurdle.
"Thank you."
The room they locked him in wasn't that bad. It was large, comfortable, and completely airtight, with a venting system to ensure that no one who got near the room didn't smell the pheromones. It was mostly boring; a few S.H.U.S.H. agents in full hazmat suits (the pheromones, Dr. Bellum explained briefly, were now so concentrated that they affected people through the skin) had delivered a few books, but Darkwing couldn't help but worry about the crime levels outside the S.H.U.S.H. headquarters.
And then Launchpad visited him in his cell, and Darkwing had a new worry to focus on.
"You let Gosalyn out at night to fight crime?"
Launchpad cringed in the face of Darkwing's anger. "I'm sorry, DW! But it's okay; I've been making sure she doesn't do anything dangerous."
"You mean beside FIGHTING CRIME?"
"You know she'd just get involved in your cases anyway, DW. We're both pitching in to make sure everything goes well while you're indisposed."
"You feeling anything yet, Launchpad?"
Launchpad sniffed at the air. "Hm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Only one of the guys who brought in my breakfast this morning forgot to seal one of the locks in his hazmat suit, and they had to pry him off of me."
Launchpad shrugged. "Man. Those pheromones are powerful. Good thing we got them away from Bushroot before he could use them."
"Bushroot...?" Darkwing lunged forward and grabbed the front of Launchpad's shirt. "Launchpad! You have to find Bushroot!"
"Wha-? Visiting hours aren't over for twenty minutes, DW-"
"Launchpad, Bushroot made these pheromones, and all we did was ruin one batch. He's probably making more right now! You have to stop him before he does something terrible with them!"
"Oh!" Launchpad blanched, then pushed himself to his feet. "You're right! I won't let you down, DW! I'll find Bushroot and stop his dastardly plot!" He sprinted to the door and wrenched it open; he then kicked open the door to the airlock without closing the first door.
"Launchpad! No!"
Three passing interns threw themselves at the door to the cell; Darkwing threw himself against the inner one to hold it closed. "Dr. Bellum! We've got a breach!"
Several exciting minutes later, Darkwing was left again stewing, waiting for Dr. Bellum to fix him. She'd apparently run into some difficulty in synthesizing one or another hormone; Darkwing didn't quite understand what she was trying to do, but she was confident it would work, so he had faith.
Eventually, he decided to take the opportunity to relax. Launchpad and Gosalyn were handling the criminals; despite his worry, he knew deep down they could take care of themselves. So he didn't have anything he had to do until Dr. Bellum fixed the problem.
This almost ensured the existence of a catastrophe; this only occurred to Darkwing when Agent Grizzlikof burst in (clad in two hazmat suits). "Darkwing! We have a problem."
Darkwing closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink. "Bushroot kidnapped Launchpad and Quiverwing Quack."
"How did you know?" Grizzlikof asked, taken aback. "I only just heard myself."
"I've begun to recognize the signs," Darkwing replied. "So...where, when, how, what?" He began to pace. "We need a plan of attack. Where's Bushroot holed up? Why am I asking that; he's in the botanical gardens, isn't he? There's labs and hydroponic farms where he could formulate his crazy pheromones."
"Darkwing, I'm not letting you out of here," Grizzlikof growled. "I was just warning you so that you wouldn't accidentally overhear anyone talking about it and rush off like-" Darkwing lunged for the door; luckily, Grizzlikof's hazmat suit made him move slowly. Less luckily, a group of student agents were passing through the detention area when Darkwing emerged.
"We use these cells to hold criminals and individuals who, for one reason or another, are hazardous to the general population. For example, Darkwing here, who is not only a crimefighter, but also the most attractive duck I have ever laid eyes on."
"Sorry!" Darkwing shouted as he vaulted over the group. "No time to chat! Eat your vegetables and listen to your senior agents!"
When he got to the motor pool, Darkwing used his new-found pheromone powers to distract the secretary long enough to get the keys to a sports car. What then followed was a frantic drive across town; Darkwing skidded to a halt just at the gates of the botanical gardens, and leapt from the car.
Darkwing sprinted through several alcoves before he slowed and realized he had to think. To plan.
"If I were an evil, plant-based villain, where in the botanical gardens would I be hiding?" Darkwing mused.
"The shed over there leads to the hydroponic farms underground," a soft voice said.
Darkwing glanced up; a young dog was sitting on a bench on one end of the alcove, next to a display of black tulips. Darkwing didn't move, acutely aware of the fact that the dog had no protection, and Darkwing was upwind. And then he realized that the dog was the same one who worked at the supermarket. He tensed, ready to bolt.
"Darkwing Duck, right? I see your pictures in the paper all the time."
"Hey, kid," Darkwing replied. "Good to meet a member of the public. And this shed, is it locked or anything?"
"Uh, no. They have tours and stuff." Darkwing turned to leave, but then the boy spoke up. "Look, I know this is a little...odd, but do you have any experience with love?"
"Not really, kid. It's hard to have a proper social life when you're a masked vigilante."
"Oh. Couse...I...god, I don't know how to say this. Last week, I was at work, you know, totally minding my own business, and then wham! This guy comes in, and it's all I can do to keep my hands off of him. And then it happened again three days ago! Do you know what it's like to have everything you know about yourself thrown into chaos by a single, aloof man?"
"Um...yes? Look, I don't really have time to talk, but..." Darkwing paused. "Wait, are you feeling okay?"
"Yes! Better than ever! You see, I've been thinking. And, well, talking to my dad. Cause I thought I was straight. And I figured, for me to be attracted to this guy, either I wasn't as straight as I thought, or this guy had crazy pheromone powers or something. And that sort of thing only happens to Louie and the guys, so here we are."
"Yeah, but..." There was no way to point out that this kid ought to be salivating over Darkwing, because otherwise he'd realize that Darkwing and the guy from the supermarket were the same duck. "Look, I'm really glad that you're having personal revelations, but I've got crime to fight. And it might be pretty time-sensitive, so-"
"Oh." The kid actually looked disappointed. Darkwing tried to resist, but the kid was only a few years older than Gosalyn, and the paternal instinct she'd awakened was speaking up.
"Look, kid-"
"Max."
"Max. Don't over-think this. You're young. Maybe you find boys attractive. Maybe you find girls attractive. Or both. Or none. Whatever. You said you talked to your dad. And if he's okay with it, you don't need to worry. Just be yourself."
"And what if I think I'm in love?"
Hoo boy. At the very least, that would explain why the kid seemed to be oblivious to the pheromones. "Well, I can't say I have a lot of experience there, kid. Just being attracted to someone isn't enough. Just liking them isn't enough. If you can imagine spending the rest of your life with him and not being bored, and if he makes you laugh, and feel happy, and if you know he's got your back - oh my god, Launchpad!"
"What?"
"I really gotta go, kid! I'm sorry. I hope it works out!" Darkwing sprinted towards the shed, heart pounding.
The hydroponic labs, sterile and full of steaming vials and bottle, were in fact where Bushroot was holed up. However, he was not actually threatening Gosalyn or Launchpad. He was pacing in front of a chalkboard.
"No, no, no! This is not going to work. I don't care what Dr. Bellum said."
"But Bushroot-"
"Do you have a PhD in chemical biology?" he demanded of Launchpad. "No? Then don't tell me how this works! I will admit I'm glad that I discovered this fatal flaw in the formula before I tried to market it, but the current situation is upsetting. I suppose removing his blood is out."
"Uh, duh!" Gosalyn snapped.
"Okay!" Bushroot shouted. "I'm not an animal biologist."
"Excuse me, can anyone explain what's going on here?"
Bushroot, Launchpad, and Gosalyn whirled about to face him, with looks of annoyance, shock, and embarrassment on their faces.
"Um, uh. Well, you see, DW, we were gonna stop Bushroot, but then it turned out he was trying to market a new cologne, which is what got dumped on you. So then we've been brainstorming to figure out how to keep the cologne from becoming stronger and stronger until people are throwing themselves at you."
"What?"
"We're trying to fix your problem, Da-Darkwing," Gosalyn announced. "So far, we think the only way out is for you to get it on with someone."
"I-you-I thought you were in trouble!" Darkwing snapped. "I came rushing down here to rescue you two because I thought Bushroot was planning to kill you! I was worried sick!"
"Aw, it was okay, DW. I was with her the whole time."
"No, it's not just Gosalyn, Launchpad. We've been partners for four-almost five years now. You're part of Gosalyn's family. You've always got my back. And-you make me laugh, Launchpad. You got me watching those crazy adventure movies. And I-I don't what I'd do without you."
"I..." Launchpad's beak dropped open. "I..." He half-closed his eyes, and smiled uncertainly at Darkwing. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, DW."
"Uh, Darkwing, Bushroot and I are going to go to one of the other labs and keep brainstorming. So...enjoy yourselves. Come on, let's go, Doctor."
"What? No!" Darkwing recognized that look in Launchpad's eyes. "Gosalyn, you can't leave me alone with him! The pheromones are getting to him!" Gosalyn, however, had dragged Bushroot out the door. Darkwing whirled back towards Launchpad. "Launchpad, get ahold of yourself. You've gone this long without the pheromones affecting you."
Launchpad flushed, and, embarrassed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, I'm pretty sure they were working fine on me, DW."
"But you haven't tried to jump me or anything!"
"Well, I'm sort of used to it," Launchpad replied. He let his gaze drift to the ceiling.
"Used to what?"
Launchpad took a deep breath and looked down, meeting Drake's gaze. "I'm used to being attracted to you, D-Drake. So, I mean, the pheromone thing didn't really change anything. Except, you know, the competition."
"Competition? Are you serious? Launchpad, the only person out there I could care about more than you is Gosalyn."
"Wow. That's..." Launchpad's smile became more of a grin. "I mean...do you...?" He shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not normally this tongue-tied, DW, but, you know, I'm nervous."
"What's there to be nervous about, Launchpad? It's just me. What am I going to do?"
"I...have no idea." When Drake laughed, Launchpad grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "I'm serious, DW. I have no idea what you're saying. Are you attracted to me? Are you just telling me you're okay with me being attracted to you? Are you telling me to leave?"
"Hell, no! Launchpad, you are my best friend."
Launchpad shook his head. "Nope. Still not getting it, DW."
"Oh, for heaven's-" Drake grabbed Launchpad and kissed him.
"There! Does that answer your question?"
Launchpad looked thoroughly dazed, but he was smiling. "No, not really. But hey. I'll take it."
Gosalyn had probably done something to ensure no one would show up; it was probably something to worry about, her having any part in planning this. But Drake didn't have the time or inclination to worry about that until much later, after he returned to S.H.U.S.H. to apologize for the fracas.
The receptionist screamed and lunged for a jar of peppermints when Drake walked in the door.
"Oh, calm down," he said, waving his hand dismissively at her. "You're in no danger. Where's Grizzlikof? I want to apologize to him."
"I am right here, Darkwing. We have been expecting you." Grizzlikof, dressed in a hazmat suit, stepped out from behind a plant. Several other agents, similarly dressed, appeared. "Now put your hands up and don't do anything arousing."
"Oh, for-I'm not a threat anymore, Vlad! Look at the receptionist!"
Grizzlikof did, staring at her for a few long moments. When she showed no sign of wanting to tackle Darkwing, he nodded.
"So you found a cure?"
"Ah...not exactly. That is, I...took...care of it."
Grizzlikof nodded. "Ah. I see. I think we can close this case without further elaborating on the circumstances, situation, or identity of your...assisstant."
"Oh. Right. In fact, we don't have to talk about any part of this case ever again, right?"
"Exactly."
"Good. We can all be happy that this embarrassing incident is safely behind us. Now don't come back here unless we call you."
"Sure thing."
Outside, Launchpad was leaning against the motorcycle. When he saw Darkwing, he grinned and waved.
"Hey! They let you go?"
"Ah, yep yep yep yep. I explained everything so well they didn't need to ask any questions."
"Really? I figured they'd rather just not think about it. I mean, you had some of those agents acting pretty funny."
"You know what? Never mind. Let's go home."
"Sure thing, DW." He paused, and glanced back at Darkwing. "Hey...did you get around to telling them how you...got over it?"
Darkwing rolled his eyes. "Frankly, I don't think they wanted to know. And I'd rather not talk about it. The whole thing was embarrassing."
"D-Drake, you don't mind if people know about...this, right?"
"What?" Drake glanced at Launchpad, who was looking, well, meek. Uncertain. "Oh, lord. Launchpad, you realize all of Gosalyn's teachers, and for the matter, most of her classmates, have thought we've been dating since fourth grade, don't you?"
"Wha?"
"Why do you think they always invited you to the parent-teacher conferences?"
"I..." Launchpad blinked a few times, still uncertain. "So you're okay with it?"
"If I was okay with it before, when we weren't, why wouldn't I be now that I've actually got the...benefits of dating you?"
"Really?" Launchpad's eyes teared up, and he pulled Drake up into a tight hug. "Thanks, DW."
"Ack! Too tight! Too tight!" Drake wheezed. Launchpad loosened his grip, still grinning like a loon. And he was entitled, Drake supposed. From what Launchpad had told him, he'd felt like this for years, and was probably still a little in shock. So was Drake, but that was just as understandable. Except of course, it sounded a little silly to say he'd only recently realized he was in love with the duck he was living with.
Nevertheless, he was sure things were going to work out. After all, they were superheroes. They could do anything they put their minds to. And right now, they had a few hours to themselves.
"Come on, let's get out of the middle of the street."
Launchpad winked. "Sure thing, DW."