A/N: This is fanfiction, created strictly for fun. Nothing of value, to say nothing of financial compensation has been exchanged. Daria characters are the property of MTV or whomever has acquired the intellectual property rights.

This little bit of fluff is set in the AN that The Window takes place. This is rated M for implied naughtiness.

Honeymoon in Paris

(Dauphine tells Daria of the woman's secret weapon.)

"You have got to be kidding," Daria blushed furiously. "I can't do that to the poor guy." She glanced behind them at the two trailing men, who had stopped at a small newsstand. Gerard had picked up a paper of some sort, and Trent yet another map. The sun was low in the late summer sky, sparkling off the river Seine. On the other side was the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

"Not without good reason, of course." Dauphine grinned at her friend. "But there will come a time when you will thank me."

"Okay, just for the sake of understanding what you are telling me. Where he puts his face when he hugs me?"

"It is a powerful pheromone, and it is part of you. Just draw your finger lightly between, and touch it to that spot where he nuzzles you. Behind your ear, the base of your neck, where he first kisses before moving to your lips."

"Aww, that is just so brutal," Daria giggled.

"You know when you are asked to go somewhere you would rather not, but wish to make him happy? At the very least, you will arrive there late, and he will still be happy."

The two women paused to let the men catch up, midspan on a bridge.

"Hey, Daria," called Trent as they approached. "Gerard said that there's this place called the Cite de la Musica. They've got a huge museum of music and musical instruments, as well as a performance center."

"It is a bit of a trip to get there, even on the Metro," said Gerard. "I believe seven transfers, if you start from Montmartre. It would be a day."

He's excited about this, and why not? Daria smiled.

Dauphine raised an interrogative eyebrow, and slowly smiled at Daria. She turned her hand in the air, like Vanna White gesturing to some desirable but pointless prize.

"He wants to go. I'll learn something more about him, so…I want to go too."

"A woman in love. So weak and compliant," Dauphine sniffed in mock contempt. "You are so…cute sometimes."

"You're a bitch."

"No, you are."

"No, you."

Trent turned to Gerard. "And here I thought they were having a deep philosophical discussion or something."

"But we are," Dauphine assured him. "One day, you will feel the consequences of your mockery."

Daria took Trent's hand. "True. But he won't even realize it."

"Or complain," Dauphine smirked.