by Roaming Tigress
Chapter Four:
The Dreams
The news regarding Steelbeak's "fling" with Darkwing had left a bad taste for Bushroot. Not even bothering to find out if it was the truth or not, the plant-duck had decided to break ties with him. He made a vow that he would wouldn't meet up with him in his well-to-do apartment, nor answer any of his phone calls. He sat on a bench beside Spike and patted him on the head before turning on the radio.
"That is the last time I ever fall in love with someone!" He said to himself, hearing the scandal being broadcasted over the radio. Suddenly, he grabbed hold of a watering can and threw it across the greenhouse. Spike jumped at this, and in irritation, Bushroot violently threw him off. Never in the dog-like plant's life had he seen so much fury in his master's normally placid blue eyes.
"That was the most stupid thing I have ever done in my entire life!"
"There are many eyewitness accounts of the notorious Agent Steelbeak of F.O.W.L flirting with daring do-gooder Darkwing Duck! This has created a stir for both the villain and the crime fighter as it seems to be damaging their reputation! More on this story at eleven."
Quickly, he turned it to a different station where a gardener was giving tips to listeners. The more he had thought of the incident, and heard more about it, the more angry he felt "Spike, why did I ever manage to love that F.O.W.L fiend in the first place? To think I even spent a night in bed with him! I lost my virginity to a cock!"
Spike looked up at him as if to say, 'don't look at me, you got yourself involved in this, how would I know anything about it?'
"Eh, nevermind . . . " Bushroot sighed, slouching his thin shoulders and heading off to retire for the night. He meandered behind a passion flower vine and flopped down on a hammock.
He dreamt that night. Steelbeak wandered into the greenhouse, cocky and confident as can be. He carried in a vase of roses, unaware of what Bushroot had in store for him. He accepted the roses, replanted them in his garden and treated Steelbeak like he always did. The two discussed Darkwing's demise and flirted a bit while drinking a mug of cappuchino.
With just a snap of his fingers, Bushroot would change the entire atmosphere of the nightly meeting.
Quickly, a stranglevine wrapped around Steelbeak's beak. The rooster gave his boyfriend a heartening, betrayed look, but Bushroot didn't flinch. As the rooster struggled violently to free himself, two other vines enwrapped his arms and legs.
"Finish 'em off!" Bushroot shouted.
At his order, a vine came down and wrapped around Steelbeak's thick neck. In a move of cowardice, Bushroot turned his back on the rooster's suffering.
"Death by stranglevine, what a surprising way to go, don't you think?" He smirked as Steelbeak convulsed once and finally slumped over, dead.
Reginald Bushroot wasn't the only one dreaming about that controversial crook. Darkwing Duck, too, was dreaming of him. He tossed and turned, moaning. This dream was not one of dread, but rather, of a criminaly lustful nature. It started off just like any ordinary night . . .
There was a report on a golden gold hubbcapped limousine that had been stolen by an unknown criminal. The vehicle was worth a million dollars, and the reward for getting it back was twice the amount that it was worth. Naturally, Darkwing was determined to get it back to it's rightful wealthy owner, arrest the villain and collect his reward.
After a chase through the city, he caught the culprit just as he or she was about to go through a red light. As he opened the driver's side door to arrest the suspect, the criminal turned out to be Steelbeak. Apparently the rooster had stolen the car for a F.O.W.L mission, covering for a agent who was on sick leave. Quickly he handcuffed the criminal and puffed his chest out with pride. Another successful night!
Not wanting to take any chances, Darkwing frisked him over for any weapons he might've been hiding in his jacket. Suddenly, the mallard was kicked into the back of the vehicle. He flinched slightly as Steelbeak bit through -- and ate -- the handcuffs that had been placed on him. He couldn't help but to think how much it'd hurt going through and out his system.
Steelbeak, in his usual suave demeanor, offered to give Darkwing a massage. He happily, and perhaps uncharacteristically, complied to the rooster's wish. Yet, a massage wasn't quite what Steelbeak had in mind. Love making was, and he offered no resistance as the rooster straddled his knees around his waist.
Perhaps coming to his senses on what Steelbeak's intentions were, Darkwing placed a foot against the rooster's mid section and flipped him over onto his back. He laughed at the bigger bird's shocked expression and proceeded to become the aggressor. Boldly he laid himself on top of Steelbeak's massive torso and tugged at his wattles. From there, he let his hands wander down to his crotch.
"Lets see how cocky you are when I'm done with you . . . " He chuckled lightly to himself in his sleep, attracting the attention of Gosalyn who passed by his room. "Hey, were do you think you're going, big guy?"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that . . . " She said to herself, raising an eyebrow and continued to keep walking down the hallway. It was something of a habit of Drake's to tell Gosalyn about the dreams he had, but lately he kept quiet about them. Although curious about these dreams, she didn't think much about them. She dismissed them as being caused by lack of sleep, strange crimefighting outings and stress.
Not hearing Gosalyn's comment, Darkwing's dream continued to unfold. He was suddenly dreaming in third person now, walking up towards the limousine. Not a shadow revealed who this mysterious individual was. Was it Negaduck intent on embarassing the mighty masked mallard with blackmail? Was it a random pervert bent on seeing someone else in action? Or was it the police finding the limousine before the crimefighter did?
The person tried to look in on the action, but the viewing was blurred from condensation building up on the windows. Slowly, an arm reached out and opened a back door, revealing that this "mysterious individual" was none other than Launchpad. He threw off a black trenchcoat and then spoke up in his usual upbeat tone.
"Hey, D.W! Time for breakfast!"
Both Steelbeak and Darkwing gave the scattered-brained pilot a baleful expression, and with that, the dream was over.
"That was one of the worst dreams ever . . . " He muttered to himself, grabbing his robe and trudging out of his bedroom. He scowled bitterly at Launchpad on the way out and fed the newspaper through the paper shredder before anyone got the chance to look at it.
"If it's the last thing I do, I'll see to it that rooster gets locked up for giving me a bad name!" He snarled, sounding almost like Negaduck.
"And for disturbing your dreams?" Gosalyn piped up.
"And for disturbing my dreams!" Drake seethed. Quickly, he changed into his Darkwing alter-ego and rushed out the door. He was clearly a duck on a mission.
At ten o'clock that morning, Steelbeak was still asleep and dreaming no doubt. He was off for the week, giving him all the time he wanted to rest. Sprawled out on his satin bed sheets wearing only his boxers, he was the perfect picture of contentment. Not even a bomb dropping down beside him could disturb him from his slumber.
Slowly, he reached a arm up and froze it in mid-air, as if hugging someone. He grinned deviously and made a kissing noise with his beak.
"Who needs Playboy when I's kin get my Plantboy?" He purred. If only he knew what Bushroot now thought of him.