AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by the episode Double Darkwings. I can't leave this topic alone. I'm obsessed in a way with no pants on ducks. Fair warning, this is slightly racier that some of the other chapters here, but not by much. I'll think about whether or not I'll raise the rating here to K+.
Darkwing Duck paced around Darkwing Tower as the moonlight cast an ethereal glow against his anxious form. It felt like he had been waiting for hours. The night was young and there were crooks to capture, but here he was, waiting and waiting since the sun had fallen into the Audubon Bay.
Darkwing glanced at his watch. Only 5 minutes?! He balked at the digital readout, concluding that it was wrong and that some rouge EMP wave must've sabotaged it since entering Darkwing Tower 5 minutes ago.
He glanced at a door that was shut and locked, and shouted, "How's it going, Launchpad?"
The muffled reply came, tinged in nervousness. "Er, a-are you sure about this, D.W.?"
"I told you, L.P., if you're going to be trained as my double, you must look the part! There are no ifs, ands or buts about it!" Darkwing replied, slapping his hands together for emphasis. "If you're wary of the size, don't be. I special ordered this costume to fit you like a glove. Now put it on, and let's get going!" Darkwing sat down at one of the blue armchairs leading back to his domestic dwelling and bounced his leg to keep him occupied.
Inside the other room, Launchpad McQuack let out a quiet sigh. He had been excited to wear Darkwing's costume and fight crime by his side. But...no pants? This was brand new territory for him, and the excitement he felt for evildoer crushing had morphed to butterflies in his stomach. He stared into the mirror at the duck reflected, already changed into the suit. He flattened down the purple coat and studied himself. It did fit well and even flattered slightly his muscular arms and beefy torso, gained from a life of mechanical work as well as vigorous exercise. And then there was his lower torso and thinner by comparison legs, out in the open, exposed for lack of a better term. He turned around to see the backside, pushing the black silk cape out of the way.
Maybe it wasn't all a bad change. Darkwing had the boisterous confidence to do it, as tons of other ducks did. Thinking about it, it was liberating in a sense. He put his hands on his hips and cocked them to one side, swishing his tail coyly. The act brought a blush to his face and the nervousness seemed to vanish. He was ready.
"Alright, D.W., here I come!" he called out.
"About time," mumbled Darkwing, and he stood up to see the door opening and Launchpad stepping out.
"Well, whaddaya think?"
Darkwing suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His felt heat rising from his cheeks, or perhaps steam. It was slightly overwhelming, the way his costume transformed Launchpad into a different person. The smooth purple, that dashing hat, and the fact that this had been the first time he had seen his boyfriend without pants.
Launchpad was, for lack of a better term, sexy. Oh, so much so.
"D.W., is your nose bleeding?"
Darkwing was catapulted out of his stupor and felt on his beak. It was dripping with a thin stream, and he bolted for the tissue box. "Ahem, the breeze has been awful dry lately," he quickly said, a flimsy excuse he knew, but one he hoped would stick.
Otherwise, he'd never be able to concentrate tonight.
