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Chapter Text

  Strings of melody float on the breeze as a lady sings and sells quindins on the corner. The sun is sliding like molten gold towards the horizon, and everything is as peaceful and beautiful as the god who created Bahia meant it to be. Words did not do justice to the picture that divine hand painted.

  Nevertheless, as "Você Já Foi à Bahia?" began to play in earnest, there was at least one bird who had plenty to say.

  "Por que diabos ainda não estivemos na Bahia, Nestor? Por que não? Que merda!"

  José swiped away from the scenic scene and the catchy beat of the hit music video that his friend liked to send him on occasion as a reminder of that one trip he always wanted to take but could never afford to, one that he had sworn up and down that he'd take with all his dear friends someday. José was stuck on another plane to the States with a cargo full of happily sated sightseers on their way back from their respective vacations in Rio de Janeiro. Most were snoring off their hangovers while the rest chatted quietly and amicably while comparing Instagram pics of their activities during Carnival. Typical that he was forced to work during most of the festivities or risk getting evicted, again.

  "Excuse me, sir, can I get a refill?" a voice pierced the cloud of moroseness that had briefly overtaken him. Zé sighed internally while slipping on his most charming smile for the customer. Just a few more hours and he will be in Calisota for the first time since before the Moonvasion. Maybe he'd be fortunate enough to have lunch with some of his American friends in Duckburg before he would be forced to return home!

Chapter Text

  The trip to Chez Swann went quickly with so much to talk about, and before they knew it, the three of them were waiting to be seated in the swankiest restaurant in Duckburg. José was fairly rocking on his heels in anticipation; there really was very few things better than catching up with beloved old friends. Besides perhaps dancing with them, but that might come later if the parrot had his way. He had missed them both so dearly that he hardly knew what to do with himself. Even when he and Panchito had met up with Donald and his family in Brazil several months ago, it hadn’t felt the same without Della there. No matter how long it had been, both Caballeros could tell that there was still a vital piece of Donald missing, and they had mourned in private that perhaps things really would never be the same as it once was.

  But things are different now. Della was alive! Donald had his family whole again. A brand new life awaited him, one that should have begun ten years ago. And Zé could not have been happier for him.

  Oh damn it, don’t cry, you fool, the green macaw scolded himself in the privacy of his own thoughts, reminding himself over and over that he needed to play things cool, to put his friends at their ease. He couldn’t let on just how much reconnecting meant to him.

  When the host, another Latin bird with speckled feathers, finally came back to take stock of the people waiting for a table, she turned her attention to the three of them first.. "How many?"

  "A table for three, senhorita , for me and my good friends."

  "Name?"

  José flashed Donald and Della behind him a devilish smile and a wink, and turned back to say, "Gladstone Gander."

  Della snorted outright, and Zé was greatly gratified to see her covering her beak quickly to stifle back a laugh. Donald for his part was dumbstruck, staring at the other Caballero as though he were the smartest man on earth, as though in the over 30 years of living in Duckburg, of being Gladstone's cousin and rival, the thought had never occurred to Donald himself to pull such a stunt. Zé tried hard not to let the unspoken amazement go to his head.

  The lady host, however, was the only one to appear unimpressed as she raised a delicate eyebrow. "Gander. Really."

  Zé merely smiled warmly and said something in mixed Portuguese and Spanish that had the host smiling after a minute and shrugging as if she weren't really paid enough to care if what the charming con man said was true or not. "Well then, Sr. Gander , you already know that you have free meals for a year for you and friend, so please follow me to the special VIP booth and enjoy your meal."

  "Muito obrigado, senhorita," Zé took off his hat and bowed his head in his most gentlemanly manner, looking over his shoulder at the Duck twins and waggling his eyebrows before proceeding to follow the nice lady to their table.

  Della just about had to push Donald into the restaurant proper, considering he'd been frozen in place. And who could blame the poor guy? This place really was more impressive and intimidating than what José could remember from the last time he had conned his way into a meal here on a date over ten years ago. Not that anyone from back then would still be working here that would remember him. After they passed the entrance into the main dining area, however, Donald caught up to him.

  "I'll be doggoned, that worked?!" the sailor whispered, desperately trying to keep composure. "The cachaça is on me tonight—you're a genius, Zé!" The malandro preened under such praise, and half expected that his friend would have clapped him on the back, were he not so clearly petrified of making a scene in this place.

  Zé had no such reservations with personal space, however, as he boldly took Donald by the hand and guided him to sit in the middle of the booth, leaving room for Della and himself to sit on either side of him. "You have yourself a deal, meu caro. Senhorita, may we have three cachaça to start?"

  "Oh, not for me, makes my head feel all funny," Della raised a hand in denial. "I’ll take an Oreo milkshake if ya got ‘em though!"

  "Desculpe, amiga, I have forgotten you do not drink," the Brasileiro apologized, endeavoring not to look sheepish, but his words were waved away with a laugh from the energetic pilot.

  "I’ll let your server know," the host smiled politely before excusing herself. 

  "So, Della, you simply must tell me more of what you've been doing all this time," Zé began as he scooted into the booth and settled down beside Donald. "Tell me about the moon, and the aliens! And Donald, I want every detail of how you and your brave família fought the Moonvaders and saved the planet." He was beside himself with curiosity, and didn’t want to have to wait for the fascinating details.

  Donald nudged Della in the ribs with his elbow, in an attempt to prompt her to speak first. The other duck, whose blue eyes were glazed over with whatever reminiscing the question had engrossed her in, started at the rude interruption to her thoughts and swatted at her brother in retaliation. "Buh? Me? Oh!" She blinked a couple times and one of her hands reached for something to fiddle with. "Oooh the moon. We go way back. The no atmosphere, the rocks, the cold, dreary emptiness..." She trailed off a moment before shaking her head free of the memory of it all. “Gyro's Oxy-Chew!" she then exclaimed and immediately cringed. "I'm never eating black licorice again. Bleugh!"

  "Oh não, eu posso imaginar," the emerald parrot nodded in commiseration. Inside, he was doing his best not to chuckle. Trust Gyro to find a way to troll his old college classmate even with the breadth of space between the Earth and Moon to separate them.

  Of course, all thoughts of humor disappeared as Della began to stare off into nothing, as if she were getting lost in her own head. How often did she do that now, he wondered. He was almost afraid to ask, though the question remained in his eyes as he flicked his gaze to Donald. But before he could look up and catch his meaningful look—

  "My best friend Penny!" Della suddenly exclaimed, startling the rest of them just as their server arrived with their drinks. She dragged the glass of thick and heavy cream and sucked down a hefty first sip through her oversized straw before continuing. "She's amazing! We had the whole 'frenemy' thing going on at first ‘cause she wanted me dead—" The malandro and the sailor both shot each other looks as the pilot threw back her head to laugh. "Ah! Classic Penny. Anyway, she was a lieutenant in the army but oh man she totally came around in the end. Now we love each other." 

  Della continued to tell the tale of the mite and how she had fed her own tooth to the mite's baby—always returning her narrative back to Penny, exalting in how fearless and awesome she was in that first meeting. By the end of her story, Della managed to keep a small smile on her face.

  José sat by with a fascinated, wide eyed look on his face, sipping at his cachaça in intervals and occasionally glancing at Donald to see his reaction. "Meu Dues , can it be true? To have survived such trials, and end it while bridging the gap of two worlds with love? It is the stuff of legends, minha amiga, and no mistake. It is almost too much to be believed."

  Zé leaned back and finished his drink. He wanted dearly to hear about how her sons reacted to her unexpected return, but he feared it might yet be too tender a subject, and not one for an outsider like him to pry into. And so, sensing that a change in focus was called for, he steered the conversation back to his favorite subject. "And what of you, Donald? Last text I got from you before the invasão , you told Panchito and I that you were heading out on a cruise? How did that turn out?" Surely this is a safe enough topic, he thought. A relaxing vacation on a cruise ship to warm, exotic locals? It was just the sort of thing Donald would love.

  Donald choked. He'd taken a sip of his rum and coke just as José had asked about the cruise. Something must have gone down the wrong tube by the way he was coughing and spluttering. He barely managed to slap the glass back on the table to avoid spilling more, then punched his sternum in a frantic effort to clear his airway. The macaw cooed and patted his back in an attempt to help settle him again, which eventually turned into just rubbing between his shoulder blades as the duck took a drink of complimentary water. Eventually his breath came back, loudly at first, and Zé no longer had an excuse to keep touching him. He dropped his hand.

  Donald wiped his eyes as the shock began to subside and looked to José. "Uhh, the cruise?" He coughed weakly into his sleeve and swallowed. "It was, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—" the word trailed off for an unnaturally long time. If Zé didn’t know any better, he’d say his friend was stalling. "Boring! Relaxing, but nothing to really say. Just a whole lotta nothing!" He chuckled rather forcibly. "I don't wanna bore you guys with it, just rest assured that I'm a-okay, now!" That last part came out far louder than was necessary, as if volume alone could convince everyone at the table of the truth of his words, before going back to his drink with marked eagerness.

  "Oh, é mesmo, is that so?" José affected his warmest smile, noting the way Donald seemed to be hiding his face in the glass as he took another swig. As he spoke, his hand reached under the table to briefly touch Donald's hand, which startled his companion still more by the way his eyes widened. The malandro’s face gave nothing away of his inner thoughts; only his eyes weren't smiling like the rest of him. Something was up, and he could tell. "Well, I am glad you were happy. It is only what you deserve."

  "...Thanks. I really needed a break." Donald offered a small smile. His hand slid out from under Zé’s gloved one, his fingers gripping empty air. He withheld a sigh and withdrew as the other Caballero continued. "What about you—how was Bahia? How's Panchito?"

  Zé almost choked himself on his cachaça and laughed with a slightly bitter edge. "Aaah, Bahia, what can one say? There are no words for the beauty, the majesty—!" The utter unaffordability for an underpaid malandro living from paycheck to paycheck. And here he had sworn this time last year that he would go! He had been so close too, but then his mother had gotten sick, and he and Panchito and Nestor had to turn back, and one trouble led to another and—ah! Caramba tudo!

  Donald nodded, appearing genuinely happy for him, and the immediate feeling of guilt for lying sat like a rock in his gut. "I'm so glad you finally went, I've listened to you talk this up for years! I'd love to see it, too, sometime…" He trailed off again, this time appearing to be lost in some very pleasant thoughts. With the way José had always built Bahia up like some haven for romantics and poets, filled with rich with majestic scenery, it wasn’t any wonder that the sailor would be envious. It made Zé feel all the worse for lying about it.

  But that was when they were greeted with an upbeat, "All right, sirs and madam, what would you like to have today?" as their server returned to take their orders.

Chapter Text

 The server whisked away after everyone had ordered, with Della—a bit too excitedly—opting out of a main dish to instead tell them the sweet delights she would like to eat. This had gained a disapproving glance from Donald and a laugh from José, who then chose to match her enthusiasm with a couple of desserts of his own. She returned her brother’s scowl with a cheeky smirk and a small, playful toast of solidarity with their mutual friend. 

 After that the booth was able to transition to more comfortable topics, with Zé talking animatedly about his job and the last few layovers where he’d had more than an hour to actually look around before going back to work. Donald finally relaxed a little. How did he always manage to do that, just change the topic and make things better? He'd really missed his levity. 

 Then the topic turned to reminiscing about their university days, speaking with fondness for their tight-knit group that had included Panchito and even young Gyro before his apprenticeship in Japan. It gave Donald warm feelings to remember that time, when everything was so much simpler. 

 Of course inevitably, Della pushed to play one of the games they were fond of back then, "Alright boys, would you rather have the legs of a frog or the head of a fly?"

 "Legs of a frog, obviamente," Zé said without missing a beat. "Think of how far I would be able to jump, and I happen to like my face too much to want to trade it with a fly. No offense to the fly, of course."

 "Zé's right!" Donald agreed. "Frog legs for sure! I'd even still have webbed feet—easy!"

 "Little surprised by your answer there, Donnie. I think the fly would've been an improvement," Della snorted at her own joke.

 "Har har," he grumbled, half tempted to stomp on her foot under the table. Of course that was a bad idea, considering the one closest to him was made of steel. Instead he rubbed his chin for a moment as he thought of a question of his own. "Okay, what about you, Della? Would you rather have swords for arms or wheels for feet?"

 His sister paused to sip her drink again, her brow furrowed as she thought about both possibilities. Knowing her, she probably thought both were super rad, with the option of being able to swing an arm and slice anything in the way versus feet wheels that would likely be used for ripping up the bannister in the mansion skateboard style. "Can I have both? I could do so many things at wuuuuuuh—" Della was abruptly mesmerized as the waiter placed down one of the four plates of dessert she ordered. The mountain of snow ice-cream just about obscured Della's view from the rest of the restaurant. "Whoa…" She turned to the waiter, "Thank you!"

 "Jeez, big enough for ya??" Donald teased while Zé could only whistle, impressed.

 "Yeah, just about!" Her eyes as big as saucers, Della picked up a spoon and had a sudden realization. "Wait, no!" She directed her outburst to the rest of the table. "Just the wheels. I wouldn't be able to hold anything if I had swords for hands. No ice cream, no piloting... Even though it would be totally awesome." She started to grumble towards the end, her hand swooping into the dessert and digging out too much for any normal mouth to handle. 

 "Oh my god, can you calm down? It’s not going anywhere, ya know," Donald scolded like the parent he was and tossed a napkin at her before she could make a mess of herself. Della shrugged and made an attempt to conquer the bite anyway.

 "Whadwudjooboythpick?" she chipmunked the ice-cream to one side of her bill to try and sound clearer, but it didn't seem to work. "If thuh thwordth werrthmall you'd—" Della swallowed. "Heh heh, sorry. If the swords were small you could prepare food super quick!"

 Answering that of course wheels were better so that he might still have arms for cuddling, José raised a subtle eyebrow at the antics of Donald's sister, who seemed to be throwing herself wholeheartedly into a future diabetic attack. Not that either he or Donald could blame her, not at all. After everything the fearless woman had been through in the past ten years, a little recreational numbing was in order. Donald knew Zé would recognize that.

 "Garçom," the parrot politely signaled to a passing waiter, "if you could please tell our server that we'll be in need of another round of drinks, same order. Muito obrigado."

 The conversation proceeded rather jovially from that point, in particular after the second round of drinks were delivered. The food was of excellent quality as well, though José swore with utmost sincerity that it could not compare with his and Donald's favorite diner, nor especially with one of Donald's (in)famous boat bbqs. Donald found himself flushing bashfully for what seemed like the hundredth time that day; it seemed that no matter how much time had passed, the macaw still knew exactly what to say to make him feel as shy as ever. He knew he would never get used to so much praise.

 Then the band arrived and began to start playing  and Zé was all but bouncing in his seat, his toes tapping to the rhythm of music from pretty much all over the New World continents, from the jazz of French Quabec to the cuecas of Chile. He in particular seemed to groove with an Argentine tango in the middle of their second course.

 "Ok, I have it," he said at length. "F, marry, kill: Felldrake, Glomgold, Ma Beagle. Go."

 "Ew, like, the big demon guy Felldrake, or the staff Felldrake? How would I even—" Nevermind. Dangerous question to ask José. "I'm gonna say marry Glomgold, 'cuz that would annoy Scrooge the most.” The malandro snickered at the conniving face Donald had adopted just then. “And we already killed Felldrake, huh? I'll keep that. Guess that leaves Ma Beagle." He shuddered with a laugh. "Could be worse!"

 Being the designated driver, Donald stopped himself at drink #2 and insisted nothing else be ordered to the table on his behalf. There was always later, back home. They wouldn't be done talking for some time anyway, and it didn't seem like José had anyplace else to stay but Donald's couch—or more sensibly, a room in the mansion. Even though he was sure—he was sure—that his best friend would pick his couch over those cold, oversized guest rooms. It was very comfy after all, perfectly fine for sleeping. Donald had a lot to prepare for…

 He found himself blinking to try and snap himself out of it. We'll deal with it later. "Uhh, Della! If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

 "Ha! Easy!" Della scooped the last of the second dessert into her mouth. She opted to merrily hum the first few lines, saving her friends from having leftovers sputtered among them. She drummed her fingers in time on the table as the melody built up to the chorus. And after swallowing her mouthful, she dramatically whipped her head around with scrunched up shoulders, spoon in hand and raised to her face. 

 "Y'gotta believe that I got what it takes, to stand out—" she pointed to no one in particular, "above the crowd, even if I gotta shout out loud. Til' mine is the only face you'll see! Gonna stand out..." Della thrust the makeshift microphone towards her brother, remembering how they used to sing and dance to this song together. She quickly winked at José before shaking the spoon once, trying to encourage Donald.

 "'Til ya notice me!" Donald finished for her, and Della laughed incandescently. Boy, had it been a while since they sung that together! Or shared any kind of wholesome sibling time with one another. It wasn't often he got to sing out loud without feeling like an annoyance, but he was sitting with two of the three people in the world that he trusted not to be annoyed. It was near effortless to be swept away in the playful attitude that now surrounded the three birds, especially when one of them was cruising along on a sugar high and the other buzzing along on his third cachaça. Though it was still difficult to adjust to the fact that it was perfectly fine to have fun, with no danger to watch for or children to fret after, Donald could hardly help it. God, he’d really missed the brightness she had always brought into his life. Both of them really.

 Della slumped back in her chair with a smile that made her eyes nearly squint shut. "Powerline was so cool! That song was everywhere! Oh it's so catchy..." 

 "Claro, it was a huge hit! It made it all the way to Brasil, and we even had a Powerline concert in Rio. I went with Nestor and my sister when we graduated high school." José was leaning full back into the booth as well with a dreamy, nostalgic expression on his face and his third alcoholic beverage half finished and hovering between his fingers.

 "I don't think I could ever get sick of it." Della started to hum again and dance with her shoulders. "What about you two?"

 "If we're talking about any song for the rest of my life, my choice of course is 'Você Já Foi à Bahia?', but you both knew this," Zé shrugged. "If we are talking only of Powerline songs, I will always prefer ‘Eye 2 Eye". Very powerful meaning, muito emotivo."

 Donald nodded. Powerline was a classic, and Della's favorite, to the point that he'd listened to him non-stop while the boys were growing up. "Ahh, I'd have no idea, if I were to pick just one...?" Stand Out was incredible, and Eye 2 Eye, as José had noted, was very moving. "Gee, am I gonna get chased outta the room if I name some overplayed Nirvana song?" He really had hoisted himself with his own petard with this question, there were so many options and he hadn't thought of any answer in advance. 

 "And I dunno how I'd live without all those 'albums' we recorded in college—I still have the CDs," the sailor snickered. "You know what? Stand Out, just so I can keep singing it with you, Della." He raised his glass to clink it with hers.

 While Donald had been speaking, José perked up a little from where he had been drooping slowly into the booth, tapping his foot under the table to the music, and finished his drink in quick order. (Maybe a little too quickly as he coughed a little.) "Espere," he mumbled as he slid out onto the walkway and flitted over to where the band was just finishing up their orchestral cover of "Stand Out". He leaned in to whisper something to the trumpet player, who laughed and nodded before turning to speak in quiet tones to the rest of her bandmates. José hopped back over with a slight wobble in his step, which indicated much to his intoxicated state.

 "Della, Donald, dança, vem, dança comigo," José giggled, nearly vibrating and holding out his hand as the first notes of his requested song began to play. It was 'Come As You Are.'

(First song: 'Come As You Are')

 He didn't have to ask Donald and Della twice. The request, which immediately registered after a bar or two, made Donald’s heart sing and he was convinced Della’s smile couldn't get any wider. Following in the parrot's footsteps, the twins slipped out of the booth, with Della rushing to finish the rest of her drink and Donald not wasting even a second to take José's hand. The duck beaming and swayed gently to the music before they could even get out on the floor. They all listened intently to the first few lines as they floated through the restaurant, with Della playing the air drums even as she too took the malandro’s other free hand.

 The three birds began to dance in earnest as the familiar beat picked up in rhythm, the trumpeter winking in amusement even as some of the patrons of Chez Swann raised a confused and often judgmental eyebrow at these people dancing in the middle of a restaurant that in fact did not have a designated dance floor for guests. Donald didn't give a wit what they thought. The suave smile of José and the wobbling, enthusiastic hand gestures of Della was more than enough to make the sailor willing to put up with anything. If they could all forget their troubles for but a moment, it would all be worth it.

 With that firmly in all their minds, Zé latched onto Della and spun her about to the beat of the song, laughing with her as they moved. Donald was proud of his friend’s earnest efforts to give his sister a good time; there was hardly a man who lived that was better suited for the job.The duck was swooped into the parrot's arms as he twisted her this way and that, twirling her once, then coming back together with laughter so contagious that some of the other patrons couldn't help but smile themselves. Then Della let go of José and moved over to Donald. Shoulder to shoulder, they gave the best finger wigglin' dance ever performed. Sure, this situation was not suited for their environment and totally childish, but Donald would be damned if this wasn't the most fun he'd had in years.

 As the band's brass rendition of Nirvana's "Come As You Are" neared its conclusion, the melody took a turn and slowed and blended with a smooth jazz guitar as the tune changed over to a new song, one just as recognizable to Donald and Della. The trumpet player put her instrument aside and took out a microphone to start singing.

What else should I be

All apologies

What else could I say

Everyone is gay…

(Second song: 'All Apologies')

 "Come As You Are" transitioned into "All Apologies", and Donald could not have been more impressed with this different take on a song he loved so dearly. He had been so lost in the music, bouncing between dance partners and—

 "Donnie, you take this one!" Della giggled as, hand in hand, she lead her brother across the "dancefloor." Before he could register what she meant, Donald was spinning, landing directly in the outstretched arms of his most charismatic friend with a bump. He could feel an arm wrapping around him, his own extended to catch himself and keep balance. The drake smiled sheepishly and gave a nervous laugh to the Brasilero before flashing a mild glare at.Della’s retreating back as she waddled happily back to the booth, picking up her spoon as she sat down to eat her next dessert.

 Somehow, the music had kept him moving through all of, rocking gently to the slower-paced jam as he almost hung off his friend. What are you doin', you clumsy idiot? Stand up! Donald took his weight off of José and moved into a more traditional dance hold, face a little red. "Sorry, Zé."

 "Shh, shh, não, no apologies," José whispered, then chuckled at the irony of his words, considering what song was playing. "Just dance with me." 

 The lingering flush of alcohol in his system left no room for hesitation in his mind, no shred of doubt—was this going too far?—he simply nodded slowly and said "Okay, sure." He let Zé take his hand in his own, settling the duck firmly in his other arm, and proceeded to be led by his oldest friend in a slow, classic ballroom waltz to match the gentle rhythm of the music. Just dance with him. Donald could do that. Why was his chest pounding? His friend was here, holding and guiding him. Holding him surprisingly close at the waist, actually.

 Not that Donald minded—years of traveling together had eliminated most personal space Donald might have had with José—it just...stood out to him. He shook his head clear. It was almost certainly nothing. Zé was a little tipsy, and a lot more excited to dance than anyone in the room. He probably hadn't noticed he was even doing it. Donald appreciated the contact anyway; it was something he'd missed.

 As the two birds danced like it was the most natural thing, the world seemed to fade away so that there was only him and the parrot holding him in his arms. If you'd have asked Donald to put into words what was happening, he'd have struggled—more than usual. Della seemed to think that whatever it was was a riot: between mouthfuls of dessert she managed to silently heckle and tease from the booth. In lieu of a free hand with which to flip her off, he simply stuck his tongue out whenever he found himself facing her way. 

 José seemed so lost in their act that he might have been communing with The Muses themselves. Donald couldn't believe he was looking at him that way; he dismissed it as some far-off, dreamy expression. Onlookers had mixed reactions that suggested they thought the dance was performative, or perhaps some grand romantic gesture. It was a silly idle fancy, and he couldn’t help but giggle at the very notion. As if the man would! With him? Never.

 Back when Donald had driven to the airport, all he'd been thinking about was a distraction and some company with a trusted friend. Now? He wasn't sure. The clearest way he could describe it, himself, was that he felt like he was home.

Chapter Text

It felt like being in love…

José looked into Donald's eyes and wished that were true for them now, knowing the glowing picture they presented to everyone that cared to look. Any other two people and one wouldn't question that what they were witnessing was quite the romantic gesture. As he led his friend through the steps of their undeniably intimate dance, he felt the surge of that unspeakable emotion in his very bones. Always he had felt it, for as long as his memory of the man had endured; he could not recall a time when he did not love him. But he was afraid, so uncharacteristically afraid that the sailor would not feel the same way, and he didn't want to ruin the great friendship they had.

And even if Donald were to feel something for him, what would it accomplish? He had tried a long distance relationship before with Panchito once upon a time, and it had been a torment to always live so far away from the person he loved. Digital gestures of affection and the occasional visit hadn't been enough for Zé, and it wouldn't be enough for him now. It was better that they stay friends. That way, only one of them needed to get hurt.

But for now, for this dance, José could forget it all and pretend things were different. That he could imagine how Donald would look gazing at him with more than simply deep friendship, but with love.

All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are

The music wound down softly around them, José twirling Donald around gently until the last lyric, when he dipped the duck gracefully and low, causing his American to laugh giddily as no doubt his head spun. His pleasure at supporting the full warm weight of his friend was tempered with some concern at how... light Donald felt in his hold. He knew he remembered the sailor being heavier back when they first met up in Brasil a couple of months ago. Now, however, he was feather light like a youth and not like the seasoned veteran of adventure he knew him to be, dense with hard earned muscle. 

Has he not been eating enough? He knew it must have something to do with... whatever it was that Donald was keeping to himself. He knew he shouldn't pry, but it was hard when he cared so much.

With the last strings of the end tapering off, Zé winked slyly at Donald to mask his worry and pulled him easily back onto his feet. A scattered polite applause met the end of their dance and José doffed his hat in a flourishing bow, waggling his eyebrows at Della, happily watching it all with a mouth full of delicious dessert, and her phone raised pointedly at them. Had she been recording them?

No doubt being dipped felt weird to Donald still—Zé could recall how he had protested the first time Panchito had tried it on him in a moment of merriment, always afraid he was going to be dropped—but pretty soon Zé knew he had become a rare exception to that mistrust. He saw the drake smiling up at him when he was pulled back up, safe and sound, and further caught himself giggling the moment he was finally released.."You old charmer," he teased. "Absolute goofball."

Not as charming as you, the parrot thought, but said nothing. .

Looking back around the room, the two dancers noted the handful of people clapping, and the glaring eyes of a few more who felt their meal had been unjustly interrupted. Donald lifted his hat, gave a small, courteous bow alongside his partner, and grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe we should get outta here." Donald whispered without taking his eyes off the room.

"Fine by me, meu querido , just let me sign that bill for good ol' Gladstone," José chuckled as they both approached Della at the table. Unable to interrupt to thank the band properly, Donald turned and gave them a nod, too, before trotting off to find anyone who could help pack up their food to-go. Typical foodie, Zé knew he'd be damned if he was wasting a free meal. In the meantime, the malandro slid into the booth like a skater on ice, ending up right next to Della and taking her hand in a teasing gesture, as if he meant to give it a knightly kiss. "Well, minha linda dama , shall we, as you Americans, 'blow this joint'?"

"Hell yeah! Hoohooho oh Zé that was so awesome! You really know your way around the dancefloor," the excitable pilot beamed at him, seeming truly enamored by his dashing demeanor. Della finished the last of the dessert, groaning at the slight rumble in her stomach due to all the sugar loaded food she just consumed. Or perhaps her belly aching for new adventures, it was hard to tell with her. Nonetheless, she pushed her plate away and pocketed her phone, ready to leave with everyone else.

As Zé signed "Gladstone Gander" on the dotted line, he noticed too late that the alcoholic drinks were not included with the free meals. Caramba. 

Well, maybe Sr Gander will win a lottery to pay off the tab or something, the green macaw thought with a wince as he subtly placed the bill under the small flower vase in the middle of the table, with a cash tip for the waiter of course. "Come on then, meus patos lindos , I'm on layover for the next two days, and I insist on visiting seus filhos before I find my bed for the night. Vamos , no time to waste!" he said, practically over his shoulder as he walked briskly towards the door.

Donald made a beeline for the exit, keys jingling in his hand in anticipation of taking off as soon as everyone was in the car. Clearly he didn't want their luck to run out on the home stretch, and seeing José sign his cousin's name made him all the more jittery. Zé hooked his arm with a wobbly Della and all but lifted her off the ground as he beat an expeditious exit from the restaurant to the car. Hopping into the backseat, he seemed all too eager now to get to their next destination as quickly as possible.

"I trust you are sober enough to drive, Donald?" he asked, trying not to giggle with the giddiness of getting away scot-free from paying for that meal.

Donald rolled his eyes, but not without smiling. "Ah, 'course I am," he swatted away the question and buckled up, looking to both his friend and his sibling. "What, I was gonna ask you two to slow down? Forget it."

José laughed heartily. Of course all of them had had their share of less responsible experiences, but he at least was well past that now, whatever Donald liked to think. He settled back serenely into the back seat as his friend started up the car and took off toward Killmotor Hill, everyone in the car still a little dazed at how smoothly everything had gone. 

"Been a while since we performed without things ending in a brawl," Donald joked at length. "Think they were expecting one of us to propose or somethin' like that?" 

"Yeah! It would be a cute way to propose, right?" Della remarked with a sly grin thrown to the back seat. 

Zé flushed under his feathers, more so than he already was due to the alcohol, and laughed to cover any slip in composure. "Why, what a sweet notion! I have been remiss. Della, my would-be-sister, I would like permission to ask for your brother Donald's hand. I promise not to spend all his dowry irresponsibly, and to be a diligent and supportive husband and brother-in-law."

Without missing a beat, Della put on her most sophisticated accent and composure she could muster. "Why, my dear old fellow, of course! You have my blessing—I trust you with my brother's hand! But first, you mustn't trifle with me, pray tell why my most handsomest brother has caught your eye." She had her beak turned upwards, looking down on them both. Oh, she enjoyed acting regal a little too much, likely hoping to hear some silly gibberish poking fun at her brother's expense, and ready as always to chime in on the playful insults if José took the bait.

Oh, now Zé was in trouble. Did she want a list? Because he could cite a hundred things he adored about Donald off the top of his drunken head. But would he give himself away?

José Carioca, continuing his trend of only making the wisest decisions in a potentially hazardous situation, decided to throw caution to the wind and run with it.

"Oh, well minha irmã," he began, ticking off each point on his fingers, "for a start I must confess that your dear brother has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen, a grecian profile fit for the Greek gods, a mind both deviously quick-witted and profoundly empathetic, and the sweetest and most memorable of voices. He is fantastically talented with multiple instruments. He can fight bare fisted with the most dastardly of demons and come out victorious. He's good with kids and kind to animals. And his dance moves are the stuff of legends ." José leaned back in his seat and casually folded his hands behind his neck with a proud smirk on his beak.

He dared not peer at the rearview mirror for Donald's reaction. His courage would only bolster him so far.

If he had, he would have seen Donald’s knuckles go white and his face go red. He prayed Della and José were too busy riffing to look at him. He knew José was joking, but kinder words had never been said of him. Maybe he was more inebriated than he’d thought, but he could've sworn those words came right from the heart. It was hard not to be affected.

And, well, it sure seemed by the look on Della’s face that she was just as surprised as he was, being not remotely what either had been expecting to hear. She was squinting at nothing in particular, mind racing being that keen gaze, before she shook her head and laughed, the moment’s awkwardness set aside. "Most indubiously! Well then, there will be no other bird for my darling brother! José you are most respectable and—and— cool ." She seemed to give up on trying to find a fancier word as she turned to face José fully in the backseat. "I can picture it now, brother ," she teased with a wink. "The lovers marry in the beautiful Bahia."

"Okay, don’t get carried away, sis," Donald warned as his face grew even hotter. Surely she knew when to run a joke into the ground.

"Claro que sim!" Zé declared with enthusiasm and that devilishly handsome smile that had many ladies falling all over him in the past. "Only the finest wedding and honeymoon for my beau." He winked, playing along with this ridiculous game of theirs.

The extra silly tone helped push Donald from embarrassment back to laughter, one extreme probably as dangerous as the other to his driving, but certainly more bearable. "Shucks, you're makin' me blush!" he laughed, and hoped to god his good humor would be enough of a justification for his flushed cheeks. "Thanks for lookin' out for me, sis . Wouldn't want anyone else marrying me off. You clearly have a fine eye for suitors." He tried not to make that last part sound sarcastic. The last thing he wanted to do was insult Zé amidst the joking.

"Oh! Que requintado! " Zé gasped, blessedly leaving the game behind in favor of admiring the sight of Killmotor Hill looming before them as they pulled into the unnamed road that was their incredibly long, steep driveway. 

In all the years he had been friends with the Caballeros, they had yet to get over the sheer vastness of Scrooge McDuck's estate. It was almost obscene how large it was, Donald knew, and it caused him no small amount of embarrassment to be associated with such excess. Even for himself, it had been confronting to look at after a decade of being away, and he didn’t doubt it was the same for the Brazilian now. So easy to forget to sheer scale of it. It was intimidating to say the least.

Donald wasn't a fan of the ostentatious nature of Scrooge's property, never had been, but hearing José respond to it so positively was gratifying at least. He wanted Zé to be happy where he was staying, and Donald himself clearly couldn't offer much. It was a long journey up, and Donald's car complained every time, but they made it without incident.

They pulled up at the entrance of the manor and got out of the car. "I can take your luggage, Zé, go right on in with Della and see if you two can't find any of the kids."

"Oh no, meu querido , I wouldn't dream of it," José politely insisted, taking his single overnight suitcase and stepping out of the car. He hooked his arm with Donald, plainly meaning to keep the duck at his side every step of the way.

Donald smiled wanly, somehow understanding him without anything needing to be said. The malandro would never admit it outloud, but having his friend near was likely as great a comfort to him as it was to himself, in a surrounding of such extravagance that it was almost alien to the poor city parrot. He couldn’t really blame him for nerves. Even he had felt it the first night he returned to these grounds to stay.

"Shall we, meu querido? " José asked with a tired smile.

"We shall." Donald confirmed with a sigh. "Absolutely."

"I can talk with Unca Scrooge tomorrow about givin' you a room in the mansion—s'probably more comfortable," Zé heard Donald mumble in front of him as he dragged his feet leading them both around the yard to the other side of the house where the pool was located. Seemed that all the excitement of the last few hours was catching up with him as pronunciation was becoming less and less of a priority. "Houseboat's nice and quiet, at least. You can take the couch or my hammock, m'sorry I don't have a real bed for ya."

"Do not worry," Zé reassured softly and stifling a yawn as they walked. "Any corner in sua casa is good enough for me. I don't require much."

The last time Zé was on the property, he had come with Panchito to "practice" for their "band" in Scrooge's garage, and the Caballeros had been allowed to stay in the guestrooms, which were huge . José had been unable to sleep alone in one of those immense beds and he had snuck into Paco's room to share without anyone ever finding out. But that had been the extent of his exploration of the premises. He had never been to the part of the house where Scrooge sometimes took his morning swim, and he wasn't sure what to expect when he first saw Donald's houseboat sitting afloat in the mansion's Olympic sized pool.

Donald looked little embarrassed, and it was clearly too late in the day to bother explaining it all to his friend, exhausted as they both were. Clearly the drake’s sensibilities aligned more with his own than he had thought if he was choosing to sleep outside in his own humble abode rather than under Scrooge's roof. Even if Scrooge appeared to be taking on the kids nowadays more than he had been in the beginning, thank God. Donald deserved some of his independence back.

They marched up the gangplank and Donald kicked the door open, flicking on a light and climbing down the stairs that led below deck to the kitchen and living space. "Minha casa é sua casa, my friend. Lemme get you some blankets. The couch is comfier than it looks." It was one of those deceptive old things that looked like a lumpy, dodgy couch, but the minute you sat down on it your energy was sapped and you never wanted to get up again.

"Que bom! It is—how do you say cômodo? " José took a long look around at the compact floor plan taking advantage of every conceivable inch, the sheer cleverness of the design. Everything a family needed to live was compartmentalized into one living space. He could even discern that there was more rooms beyond the living room/kitchen area, likely for the kids when they lived there. "So smart, I love it," Zé finished with a relaxed smile. "This estético... It vaguely reminds me of the Cabana, when it wasn't overflowing with artifacts. It feels like..."

Home.

Donald paused and waited for José to finish, but he never did. Well hell, Donald could hardly fault him for dropping a sentence after this long on his feet, after all. "I've hadda lot of chances to revise the floorplan—it's prob'ly been through just as much as the Cabana." Zé's response to Donald's hard-earned home seemed  to lift his spirits if his tone was any indication. Good, he deserved to feel proud. "It does me well, though."

Zé stayed in the living room, setting his suitcase down by the couch and taking off his hat to set on the coffee table by the time Donald returned with blankets and dropped them on the couch. Sometime in the interim he had abandoned his sailor suit for a plain black shirt, clearly meant for sleeping, and Zé took that as his cue to remove his own jacket. "Bathroom's just over there, I'm not setting an alarm or anythin' for tomorrow, but feel free to make noise whenever after 6." 

The minute José sat down on the couch, he found himself sinking down into cushy heaven, que rico! He let out a groan as he suddenly became acutely aware of all the aches of the workday bearing down on him all at once. Tired as he was, he still noticed when Donald had started to shuffle himself off and felt the pang of his withdrawal though he said nothing. But then the drake paused and turned back. "I'm happy to stay up and hang out, by the way, but I assume you need to sleep, huh?" 

Honestly Zé could have dropped off right there sitting up, but the offered prospect of spending quality time with his dear American friend was too good to pass up. "Come, sentar-se ." He patted an empty place on the couch next to him.

Donald didn't need to be asked twice. He flopped down on the couch next to Zé. He could tell he was relieved that he didn't have to play anything up anymore. They weren't out in public, no more sister or kids to handle or worry about. And as much as Zé had also desperately appreciated Della keeping the conversation so light, dropping that suave act was something even he could appreciate in the moment. It was nice to be with someone he didn’t have to pretend to be something better than who he really was. Better than being just plain old Zé. Wouldn’t surprise him if Donald was feeling something similar right then.

"Some day, huh? Sorry if I seemed...off, at all, after pickin' you up," the duck at his side said at length.

"I could tell something was, erm, not on with you earlier," the green parrot admitted slowly, busying himself with arranging his red and blue tail feathers so they would not be crushed, affecting more ease than he felt for Donald's sake at the choice in topic. "But I supposed you would come out with it on your own, in your own time."

"Just didn't wanna make a scene at the restaurant." Donald sunk down, speaking very slowly now. "Just had a tough couple of months. The, uh, cruise..." He drifted off. 

The cruise?

“What about it?” the flight attendant yawned in spite of himself. He’d been up for twenty hours at this point, maybe the sailor could forgive him that.

"Had a bit of a detour. I'm just happy you're here, right now. I haven't... talked to many people since." The drake leaned against the macaw’s shoulder with a sigh.

José felt his heart flutter at the close proximity and he began to preen the feathers at his knee to mask his reaction. "I don't what kind of cruise sua família sent you on," he murmured, matching Donald's volume, catching himself in another yawn before going on, "but clearly they were not feeding you properly. You've lost a lot of weight." This time he could not hide the concern from his voice.

"Oh, you noticed, huh."

A moment of silence.

"José, what's the loneliest you've ever felt?"

José stilled his preening, his fist turning to grip the feathers at his knees. "I..."

Ten years old. His mother crying in the other room, his uncle telling him his father and sister were in an accident. His sister lives, but his father....

Twenty-four years old. Donald had just lost Della. Couldn't talk about it. Needed to take care of the hatchlings. Losing touch. Moving back to Rio.

Twenty-nine years old, on a plane to nowhere, texting Panchito. The long distance isn't working for him. A visit to Mexico once every three or so weeks isn't enough. He needs...

Thirty-four years old. Rosinha telling him he's never going to make anything of himself because he hasn't been happy in years, not with her, not with anyone. His smiles are all lies. She needs...

Thirty-five years old. Alone on a plane, one day before he gets a text long overdue, wondering what happened to them all, how they are doing. If they miss him, even a little…

"I can't recall," he whispered, choking on the words.

Donald heard José's voice catch, and winced. "You don't hafta say..."

Instead of asking for more, he drew his knees in and curled up beside Zé, taking the liberty of making himself comfortable rather than the regular, polite contact so many people would maintain. The feeling of Donald pressing along his side sent a warmth spreading through his entire body and slowly José felt himself relax. They did not speak for many minutes, and the exhausted green macaw savored the silence and the company. 

Even so, he was worried by the question Donald had posed to him, distraught for where it had come from, what had prompted it. Has Donald been lonely? Was that why he seemed more than eager to have Zé stay with him for the duration of his visit? Not that he would ever object... quite the contrary... there was nowhere else he'd rather be than right... here.

If Donald wanted him there, needed his companionship, José would be available to him... For whatever he needed... For as long as he could...

"I went a whole month without seeing another person's face." A real one, at least. "I... got lost."

When at length Donald spoke, voice quiet with confession, it didn’t bother him much when he received no answer at first. He had thought about passing off his weight loss as some kind of diet thing, but it was too obvious a lie. Donald had given Beakley and Scrooge some colorful suggestions when they observed the same thing Zé had just done, but for his best friend he could really only summon a disheartened sigh. He wanted to talk about it, but actually listing out the events... was a lot. He closed his eyes and soaked up the contact with his friend. It bolstered him.

He drew in a slow breath and continued. "I lied about the cruise. I was supposed to leave the day Della got back, but something happened..."

Still no reply save that of soft, slow breathing at his shoulder, and Donald realized after his first sentence that Zé was out, fast asleep in spite of his best efforts to stay awake. His hand, trapped between their two bodies as they sat side to side, had found its way to the very edge of his shirt without the duck's knowing, clutched absently between green fingers.

His words, his courage, were left to dissipate in the room around him.

Not that he resented it. It made sense. Poor guy deserves a rest, Donald thought to himself, cautious of further movement that might wake his friend. It should have been an uneasy note to leave the evening on, and in some ways it was—but the gentle rhythm of Zé's breath, the rise and fall of his body against Donald, put the duck at ease. It reminded him of those first days in the cabana; a home furnished for one, but housing so many more. They would regularly come home from an adventure and just fall in a heap on the nearest cushioned surface.

Slowly, gently, Donald reached behind him for one of the folded blankets he'd put out, and dragged it over the both of them. It took a long time to fall asleep, but for once that wasn't an unpleasant thing.

"Goodnight, Zé."