Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the McDuck manor, Donald splayed himself on the couch, his fists clenching various papers while growing confused and angry.

"I hate money," Donald declared with certainty from years of experience.

"You hold your tongue; money made the world go round before you were born," Scrooge replied. He went back to his newspaper, only picking up on the conversation like a satellite only picking up on certain broadcasts. Della walked on the couch, patting Donald's back empathetically.

"What do you need?"

"Money."

"You're not Scrooge, what do you need to buy?"

"These various wedding shit,” Donald complained letting himself swear before reframing, “I mean beautiful pieces of ambiance to the best day of my life. I've had 10 jobs in the past year. I have barely enough money to cover the bouquet."

"I buried some gold in the backyard," Della offered.

"Already discovered, taken, and cataloged. Anything in or buried on this property is legally mine," Scrooge corrected.

"You want me to remove more teeth that may have a gold filling? Oh, shoot I already promised the next one to Louie."

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out. I mean I think I have a kidney to spare that could be worth something on the black market."

"Actually, I have something better."

"What a liver?"

"I mean a heart is worth the most if we're really talking about it, but I think we can make the wedding extravagant and on the cheap. The manor!"

"I like it! We can trash the place like I've always wanted! But I still need a bit more for the dress and rings."

"Daisy is a seamstress so solved, and you can take something from the "gift shop"", that was code for a treasure closet.

"I know that you two pillage my treasure closets. But as a wedding gift and to prevent additional purchases you can take your pick for your wedding." Donald stands up and gives a tight hug to Scrooge, one-sided.

“Hug me any longer and I’m taking it back.”

“Okay,” Donald patted Scrooge callously and went off with Della following his tail.

Scrooge settled into his chair with his month-old tea bag and the newspaper from yesterday – making it free today.

“Ah taste the savings.”

Dewey’s eyes scrutinize the corkboard with the following lines materialized with different coloured yarns. Webby was jumping on the bed with provoked excitement. Dewey followed suit.

“I can’t believe it!”

“I can, I figured it out,” Webby panned.

“I helped! And it’s happening, I know someone who my mom was enamoured with.”

“Around your birth no less,” Webby egged on, “what are you going to do now?” They paused and came to the same conclusion.

“Invite him to the wedding!” They exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’ll be so cool,” Dewey smiled. He found the journal entry in scattered pages. It involved a man who was an aviator, with Della as they did loop-de-loop over a volcano. It was also the same time Della invented a material that was impermeable to volcano lava. Not only did Dewey want to meet the really cool pilot who could be added to his collection of pilot teachers, but it could be a further genetic link to his awesomeness to meet.

“I found his mail address,” Webby interrupts Dewey’s thoughts with a piece of paper.

“How?” Webby narrowed her eyes in response conspicuously.

“I have my ways,” Webby replied ominously when in reality she just looked up the guy’s name online.

“Cool, this wedding is going to be so cool. I get to show off my new dance moves and meet my father!”

“And it’s Donald and Daisy’s wedding,” Webby added.

“Sure, sure,” Dewey dismissed.

Huey wrangled his hands together with the pages he gathered isolated from a mysterious book, but it was clear the person it belonged to. His mother. Lena sat watching the anxious boy approach her.

“May I ask you for a favour?”

“Human or spiritual?”

“Spiritual…”

“What am I a sack of magic?”

“And Webby’s best friend.”

“Okay, I’ll help you. What do you need?”

“Can you send an item to a person no matter where they are?”

“If they’re on earth. Space is a whole other ballpark.”

“Perfect,” Huey smiled and gave Lena the envelope.

“Well, now I’m interested. There’s this thing called the postal service that just so happens to deliver these types of things. You even put a postage stamp on this.”

“I don’t know how portal travel works.”

“Not like that!”

“It’s my father!” Huey exclaimed letting the cat out of the bag.

“The who?”

“I think it’s my biological paternal figure. I read my mom’s diary before the time I was born, and I found someone who my mom liked around this time.”

“Where was this?”

“It was in my mom’s memorial room.”

“Jesus, that’s a dark sentence.”

“Dewey calls it a mom-orial room if that helps.”

“It does not. How do you even know if your mom wants to see him again?”

“It ended because of travel. He’s a scientist who documents the population in Antarctica.  It is like the stories where they are separated only by distance but still long for one another.”

“Okay, okay, just please stop talking about love. It’s too early for this discussion.”

“It’s 2pm.”

“I mean for an 11-year-old!”

“Lena, when did you learn about love?” Lena blinks at the question.

“I mean can you stop learning about it?”

“Well, when did you first feel love?”

“When Webby gave me a friendship bracelet.”

“That’s a lot of years of not feeling that way.”

“Eh, it makes itself up now.” Huey gave Lena a short hug to provide some comfort.

“Uncle Donald and my brothers were my world for 11 years then it grew bigger, and I like the idea of it growing even more. I just want to spread it out further.”

“Okay,” Lena said resolved. She delivered the letter via a portal. It made her eyes more prominently felt as her tiredness increased tenfold, but it felt well worth the smile on Huey’s face.

“There you go kid, good luck.”

Louie smiled to himself as he walked over to the mailbox. He recognized this as the most devious plan he’s had this week. The idea of his father being a part of the Fortune 500 brought him excitement. All the child support he owed – Louie planned on giving some of the payments to Donald, as a wedding gift. The plan involved mailing the letter with the wedding invitation in Scrooge McDuck’s stationery to his office. He'll favour it first as a business proposition then take it in as a social outreach. Then Louie will find out his paternal figure and be accepted as the co-founder of his company or at least be a part of his trust.

Louie found the pieces of paper as there was a mild deconstruction of the memorial as Della stripped it for some of the things she needed. She left it open to her sons and Louie found the loose pages with this man spoken about. It would make a lot of sense in Louie’s eyes, for a relative like Scrooge, to be a bit like them it could be an entrepreneurial spark that was in him and the ways he got there being in the same vein as Scrooge’s toughness and smartness implemented in the family. Optimistically, Louie also wondered if this would be more substantial than money – if that was possible – where he got the relational benefits more than the material goods. I mean his mom turned out to be better than he could have pictured so why couldn’t that carry to his potential father.

Della found herself in a rare moment of peace. She hated it. She purposely found materials to bump into the elevated sounds and her leg helped immensely finding that the sound of the clanging wasn’t as empty then it was on the moon. It helped to quiet the noise in her brain or sometimes the uncomfortable quietness in her mind as she blended into her surroundings without herself being in it. Scrooge was the opposite.

“Child some people are trying to think!”

“It’s cute that you call a 36-year-old a child.”

“Looks like, acts like.”

Della stuck out her tongue thereby, proving his point. A moment of silence enters the room so Della uses it to speak what first comes to mind.

“So, weddings. In biblical times shoes were seen as a badge of authority to differentiate people from serfs so with weddings a father would give the son-in-law shoes to transfer authority.”

“Ok.” Della rolls on.

“The tradition of not being able to see the bride on her wedding day before the wedding can be derived from an arranged marriage and not wanting the groom to bolt beforehand. If you’re optimistic it is also said that it could be bad luck since seeing the dress is looking into the future.”

“I have been to countless weddings I know all these from countless speeches.”

“Well, I can’t compete with that since you were probably there with Queen Victoria’s marriage with her 300-pound cake or 136.078 kilograms.”

“Do you hate the quiet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, hopefully, post this wedding you’ll get your soulmate to keep you company.”

“Psh that tradition is bogus. I mean you danced with Goldie is she… something to you?”

“Just because she isn’t here right now doesn’t mean we haven’t put the pope in Rome.” Della cringed.

“That is disgusting. I don’t need to hear that!”

“I could have said way worse.” At that moment the children including – Huey, Dewey, Louie, May, June, Webby, and Lena enter the room talking as a group about the movie they just watched with Beakley some members of the group are more upbeat from the good news of today. Della jumped up and walked towards the kids, redirecting them.

“Come on kids let’s walk away from the pervert!”

“Della, you have three kids.”

“Don’t misalign me,” Della exclaimed as she walked away with the kids seamlessly picking up 3 of them to get them away faster – Louie, June, and Dewey much to their delight. As they got further from earshot Scrooge smiled to himself.

“Perfect plan.” The room was nice and quiet.

Chapter Text

Della’s heart escalated; she was running. Della fell hitting the soft grass and laughed as she let Webby ‘capture’ her. Unlike Beakley Della did not use the game of tag to manifest into a test of highly critiqued fight or ‘die.’ Not that Della didn’t try at all hence Webby being yards away from the other kids. It took June and May a couple of tries to realize the game was without real-life risk. However, the incentive then was dialed back for the two as they explored a playground with May on the monkey bars and June was on the swing.

“Aunt Della,” May asked, “why is it called ‘monkey’ bars.” Whenever Della heard the word ‘aunt’ she felt her body decompress in pure unadulterated joy.

“It’s a reference to the climbing act of monkeys originating from the 1950s.” Della ruffled her jacket contemplating the history of bland things was her specialty.

“Wow, mom is so smart,” Dewey compliments.

“Well, there’s not much else to put in this brain.”

“Uncle Donald says you have 2 degrees,” Huey points out.

“Well, I did 2 degrees in four years because I got to go fast.”

“Mom that’s a sonic reference.”

“I have no idea how that got in there. I just learned about gay marriage.” The kids hitched their breath at that but didn’t notice the cease in the others.

“Are your gay mom?” Louie asks trying to disguise his ulterior motives behind the question.

“Well kind of,” Della explained vaguely, “I’m bi.” For some reason, Della felt a weight come off her shoulders. Although, for some reason, her kids looked a little too relieved that she was bi.

“I don’t think I’ve come out that seamlessly before,” Della comments.

“I don’t know what bi means,” June says hanging upside down on the monkey bars, “besides a farewell.”

“It means I like women and men.”

“At the same time?”

“Sometimes.”

“Cool.”

A sound is then heard accompanied by a feeling of nostalgia hitting Della’s ears.

“Ice cream! Let’s get some!” The kids match Della’s energy as they parade to the ice cream truck.

“Mom, do you have money for ice cream for six kids?” Louie asks, “because if you need someone to spot you a couple of dollars. I mean ice cream is so expensive…” Della puts her hands on Louie’s shoulders. She pulls out a couple of bills from her jacket pinned inside.

“I always keep ice cream money around for you guys,” Della winks.

“Woodchuck rule book says to always be prepared.”

“And it helps when you fudge the value of some objects pocketing the extra amount.” That was their mother, that was for sure.

“Webby, May, Huey, Louie, and June hit the more typical flavours of chocolate and vanilla where Dewey decided to get jalapeno ice cream.

“How can it be hot and cold!” Dewey said one second into consuming the ice cream. Della pitied the boy and switched her ice cream with his in a heartbeat.

“But mom it’s hot and cold!”

“As long as it’s not that prick’s gum I find it delicious.” Content with that Dewey licks the ice cream.

Crisis averted, great parenting Della. She thinks to herself smug. Huey then hits his sugar high, but it is the proper place and time to have it, so Della just watches as Huey practically walks up a tree.

“Della,” her jacket is tugged down slightly to grab her attention. She looks down at June.

“What is marriage? I was told it’s what the event of a wedding starts but what is marriage?”

“It’s an act between two people that gives them a tax break. It also, I guess, shows the world that they feel love towards each other. Enough where they can tolerate the other person's quirks without wanting to move out and if they did it is a mess to get out of. Not that Donald would. Because they love each other for keeps.” Della wrapped up that conversation leaving June more confused than before.

“There are different types of love?”

“I guess you could say that, but I would say different ways love manifests between different people. Like I love you kids in a different way than Scrooge and Donald loves Daisy in a different way. Equal just different relationships.”

“Like a mom and dad get-together for the kids?” May replies.

“Sometimes but… not those two. Also, I don’t need to be concerned where you found that information do I?”

“Just from mommy Heron.”

“Ok, well, that is a resource of information.” Della felt a surge of protectiveness other those two kids. Not only did they lack an idea of what being a kid entails being projects used for infiltration they also lost their whole base of reality in one go.

“What do you kids want to do now? The world is no obstacle.”

“Go in the ocean!” June suggests.

“No,” Della exclaims before regaining her cool, “I mean that’s such a Donald activity, and blah, right?”

“To space?” Louie teased.

“That place is not as entertaining as you think.” Della shuts down. The idea of it though is always at the edge of Della’s head.

“To bed,” Huey groans crashing from his sugar high.

“No,” everyone else roars.

“Mom tells us about the jacket,” Dewey suggests.

“My aviator jacket?”

“Yeah!” Webby adds.

“Well, I got it when I graduated. And because I missed the Woodchucks, I put my own patches on for different adventures.”

“Tell us about them,” Huey says settling into the grass beneath him.

“Well, the first one was for managing not to strike out my pilot instructor he was a real b – bother, saved it!” Della pumped but undid some of the impact from the boast.

“Anything about love,” Huey asks digging for a specific man.

“Well, there is always love in these patches since I wouldn’t put them on if they didn’t represent a specific cherishing moment.”

“Tell us about the love you have for maybe a pilot you had adventures with.”

“Or someone who you did business endeavors with.”

“Maybe about some scientific discovery with.” Della for some reason could not get a read on her kids. Her analysis stopped with specific questions that rattled in her own head rather than for their heads.

“Well, nothing more substantial than my love for you guys,” Della tried. She could have gone into various relationships but most of them can be summarized in one sentence and probably wouldn’t be appropriate for the kids.

“Ew,” Louie expresses, “Mom loves us.”

“I knew it,” Huey smiles.

Della ruffles Huey’s hair in response.

Donald had his boat filled with wedding plans wall to wall with sketches and magazine clips. He wanted things to be perfect for the wedding. However, perfection did not run well when it came to his life. He was hoping Daisy would counteract the luck he had.

“Well fuck you then,” Daisy screams into the phone before hanging up. Maybe not then.

“What’s wrong Dais?”

“It’s my stupid parents. They’re in Belarus and they told me they don’t intend to come to the wedding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Daisy,” Donald says comforting Daisy with a shoulder rub, Daisy tears up a bit in response.

“Well, your parents aren’t coming either.”

“I mean they might, I wouldn’t put it past the family to try.” Although Donald knew from Duckworth that his parents passed through the veil meaning they couldn’t come back to their mortal grounds.

“It’ll be good though. We have each other, an officiary, and witnesses. That’s all we need; I mean besides the feeling of love for each other.”

“If we have love does that mean I can lose our honeymoon spot in favour of our lovely home?”

“No never,” Daisy jokes, “but honestly just one day away from everything is just what the doctor ordered.” Daisy picked up a feather emitted from Donald’s stress-induced molting. Donald shrugged sheepishly.

“This time it’s from excitement, I promise.”

“Donald?” Daisy presses.

“Fine, it may also be the aspect of messing up the wedding. I mean it’s the most important day of your life and I do not have a good track record for those types of things.”

“The most important day of our lives,” Daisy clarified, “and no matter what it’s not going to be the food I remember or the awkward interactions. It’s going to be you being my husband.” Donald nuzzles into the crook of Daisy’s neck.

“Okay, I can admit my shortcomings. This wedding is going to be alright.” The two lock hands and rest basking in the silence.

Chapter Text

A band commences, composed of Panchito and Jose. Donald had them set up and serenade the guests before the main event with the three of them. They also were all sober making the band good to listen to. The kids were all to themselves and anxious about their parental figures.

“Are you guys excited about the party?” a voice asks. Not expecting it, they all jump simultaneously. They looked to see it was Fethry.

“Op sorry, I forget to turn off quiet mode. That’s what it’s called when I’m creeping up on a fish that is close to the lab for documentation.”

“You guys were alone with him undersea?” Louie whispers to the two of them.

“Lot of pressure with this wedding,” Fethry continues, “Donald is marrying his love lady, Della is going to be dancing with her soulmate, and I have to prevent myself from eating all these chips.”

“Wait, what was that thing about mom?”

“Oh well, it’s an old wedding tradition of the family where the groom dances with his soulmate the sibling also takes their first dance with their soulmate.”

Huey’s eyes went big in adoration. Louie was a bit grossed out about it but then reconsidered it for his own situation.

“Interesting,” they say simultaneously.

“Fethry!” Another voice cries out in excitement, “my underwater guppy guy.” It was Gladstone using Fethry as an armrest.

“Fethry? I thought you were dead!” Matilda showed up to the party and the kids took it as the opportunity to disperse into their plans. Each of the kids spotted their paternal counterpart. Not knowing the whole picture with the other siblings’ plans. When they saw Della, they sprinted pulling apart the cluster with their own idea of their father.

“Della, I thought you were dead.”

“Della?” The man being dragged by Dewey asks, “dead?”

“Um, these are minor details here, wait here. I insist!” Dewey shoves him into the closet and pats himself on the back for his clever maneuver.

“Where are we going? And who are you?” The curious scientist asks.

“You forgot to put your coat away in the best guest closet we have.”

“Oh okay.” He is then shoved into the closet without a second thought.

“It’s Louie Duck, right?”

“You know me,” Louie slows down.

“Of course, you were on the television, in newspapers. You’ve done a lot for an 11-year-old.”

“You’ve done your research,” Louie concludes.

“I have, to meet the richest duck in the world.”

“It’s working,” Louie whispers to himself and thus shoves the man into the closet.

“Woah, I didn’t know there was an exclusive party in here,” the businessman says shocked to be met in a closet with two other people.

“Me neither!” The pilot responds.

“Oh, I was under the impression that we were shoved in this closet out of shame,” the scientist speculates.

“What do we have to be shamed about,” the pilot asks, “genuinely though, what did I do?”

“I was shoved in here by a green hooded kid and,” the door with little give, “we’re locked in here.”

“I was thrown in here by a blue kid.”

“It was red kid for me!”

“What did we meet, the Powerpuff Girls?”

“We’re not strangers anymore, any more so let’s introduce ourselves.”

“Worst closet activity ever. Fine, I’m Ace Duckleberry,” the pilot introduces themselves reluctantly.

“I’m Edmund Ponds,” the entrepreneur says.

“And I’m Sammy Dillard.”

“Now we kiss, or?” Ace trails off.

“We’ll see after we can get out of here,” Edmund concludes but he can say that he wasn’t interested in locking lips with a careless pilot. He’s done that before with little reward. Well, it ended in him being shoved in a closet.

“So do you use the metal leg during sex?”

“Gandra!” Fenton yells scandalized. Della considers saying but Fenton’s exclamation makes her hesitate. There was this term TMI which Della utilized in most interactions. Though there also wasn’t much to tell. Since Della has been on earth, she has had one sexual interaction. It was with Selene which would not have shocked anyone. It was quite overstimulating as she had been deprived of touch for ten years and a touch with sexual implications was even longer. Other than that, it was nothing further than emotional intimacy that could be commented on. Especially compared to Della’s past of various “conquests”, especially with Selene.

“Sorry,” Gandra retorts sarcastically, “I wouldn’t have thought you were such a prude Fenton, especially after –“

“Okay!” Fenton interrupts accompanied by Gandra’s smirk, “hey look, Penumbra is around.”

“Where?” Della says looking around unaware of how desperate the question sounded.

“Oh Della, honey, you are whipped.”

“I wish,” Della replies absentmindedly, “it’s just when you do get to see someone so…” Della trails off. Fenton and Gandra exchange a look. The thought is interrupted by the sight of Gyro the Della’s disgruntlement.

“Oh great, this fucker.”

“I thought you guys got along better after Bradford?” Fenton inquires.

“Barely, you don’t flush ten years of disgusting gum and petty instructions to some buzzard.”

“Smell-a!” Gyro greets.

“I thought you quit drinking,” Della sighed with a bit of anxiety and shame tumbling through her stomach at the prospect of jumping off the wagon because of her.

“I did, I’m not drunk I’m on whatever I was given to calm the hell down.”

“By whom?”

“You’re looking at her babe,” Gandra replies.

“You got another one?”

“Nope, Gyro got my only one.”

“Lucky.”

“Della, Della, Della,” Gyro slurs as he swings an arm around Della.

“What,” Della snaps.

“Now I’m too nervous to say.”

“Alright,” Della says dismissively and then distances herself from Gyro.

“I gave you a pill to not be nervous,” Gandra retorts and Gyro swats the air to demonstrate the carelessness he felt in his bones.

“I swear to God I better not have to take care of you. I mean I’m not even looking after my kids right now.”

“Are you not nervous about what they could be doing right now?”

“Nah I’m sure they don’t need an adult right now.”

“We should have talked to an adult,” Huey exclaims at the group of kids in front of him. Turns out the three of them had the same idea for the wedding but different ideas of the father. They all found out through trying to outmaneuver the others when it came to sneaking their father out just to reveal three men. The door slams again in the men’s faces to pick up the pieces of the dilemma.

“Just to tell us this was a stupid idea because I’m sure we’ve all come to the same conclusion.

“Also, I’m not sure an adult has come across this particular situation to have a frame of reference,” Violet concludes, “best we make the best of this situation.”

“How would we do that?” Dewey asks bewildered.

“We could let them out for starters,” Violet suggests.

“Nah,” the triplets agree simultaneously.

“They’re secured in there so it’s best to leave them there so mom doesn’t have to get bombarded.”

“You say bombarded like it would be a bad thing for Della,” Lena says under her breath.

“Okay, but now we have us to get you guys out of this mess,” Webby says.

“Webby, you were the one who got the guy’s address,” Dewey retorts.

“You knew about this and kept it a secret?” Louie exclaimed, “I mean I’m a little proud and a little betrayed.”

“I am under the wing of a world-class spy with ample training.”

“This coming from the person who couldn’t restrain themselves from telling me how The Mighty Ducks ended,” Huey says exacerbated.

“Hey, it's not my fault you hadn’t seen a movie from the 90s.”

“Honestly, I’m with Webby here,” Dewey agrees, “if a movie is more than 10 years old it’s free rein.”

“We were born in the 21st century! How can I be expected to watch a movie before I was born!”

“Also, Webby, you were not unaware of his desire to watch the movie,” Louie argues.

“Guys,” Lena interrupts the conversation.

“I mean you said it as he was watching the movie,” Louie finishes.

“Guys!”

“What?” Huey exclaims.

“I just needed you guys to shut up. Also, there’s a note that came from under the closet door.” Huey picks it up in intrigue. The note read ‘We can hear you’ followed by another sentence in different handwriting ‘also do you mean the animation or the live action of The Mighty Ducks?’.

“The live-action,” Huey responds coyly to the door.

“Oh classic,” someone responds behind the door.

“It’s just that our mom, Della, is here and we don’t to make it more burdensome than before,” Huey explains.

“Like Della did by inviting three guys of her past to a wedding?” Edmund responds dryly.

“Exactly,” Webby exclaims, “this guy gets it!”

“That’s understandable,” Sammy replies.

“I mean we’ll let you guys out for the dance and cake,” Dewey reasons, “I mean it’ll be so chill by then that it won’t matter.”

“Wait Dewey,” Louie interrupts, “the dance? You mean the tradition our mom is going to participate in with three guys she has already had feelings for?”

“She’s had feelings for us,” Ace responds softly.

“Oh yeah, they can hear us,” Louie says forgetting the door being the only barrier to the problem on the other side. Louie shuffles away from the door.

“Anyway, so get Della away from those guys then let them out for cake and see if anything happens without being overwhelmed by anyone in the party,” Violet concludes needing a course on how to deal with the supposed logic of this family.

“Yeah, I mean we’re eleven so this is the best situation we can come up with under the circumstances.”

“Besides Mom is probably doing great what could be stressing her out right now.”

“I am so stressed out.  By you!” Della exclaims at Gyro who innocently lays on the ground.

“All I said was that you could have killed so many more people in your lifetime. Fenton won’t tell anyone he’s going to marry a friend of mine and that means spousal privilege. Which means they can’t talk about something they’ve both heard.” Gyro was not a lawyer.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“A dumbass you forgive?”

“When you sober up, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Does it bring you happy memories?” Della sits on the grass beside Gyro.

“It brings me memories,” Della agrees half-heartedly.

“You were my only friend, and I hate that you died.” Della’s breath hitched at the confession. It reminded her of their alcohol binges where Gyro would be confessional, and Della would not take anything seriously. Now Della was painfully sober. She gets up and starts walking away from the scene. The people around her became suffocating. It was too much, and Gyro’s words bounced in her head. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. She should be dead.

Della walks into the house bouncing into objects to feel real. Della figures she would go for a treasure hunt a nostalgic activity to resolve some of her uncertainty.

She opens the closet door closest to her. She expected to see coats, boxes, and even a skeleton but she found three fleshed, alive, bodies.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck!” Della slams the door and readjusts to who she saw. Ace Duckleberry, Sammy Dillard, and Edmund Ponds. All in one room. All in her childhood and current home. Della then considers that she’s hallucinating it and opens the door again. She sees them still all look at her with interest.

“Get the fuck out of here!” They all climb out of the closet.

“Della!” Ace exclaims and throws his arms around her. Della stiffens then backs away like she’s collided with a bomb.

“I think you all have overstayed your welcome. I think outside of Duckberg would suit your interests.”

“Della, can we talk?” Edmund asks.

“Me too?” Sammy adds.

“No, get out.”

“Oh wow, Della Duck is my girlfriend,” Ace taunts and Della takes the bait like a 12-year-old girl and pushes them away from anyone’s earshot.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Della, we got your letter, to come here,” Sammy explains.

“I didn’t send you guys a thing,” Della retorts. She contemplates her actions over the past month searching for her sitting down and writing a wedding invitation to any one of them. She drew a blank. Even heavily insomniac – which tenfold from before the moon from 2 days max before now up to a week without REM sleep.  Which technically degraded from on the moon with an hour of REM sleep over a month – she could not find a memory.

“Yeah no, not a thing.” Della’s train of thought is interrupted by the sight of Penny. Della could have shot herself with her lack of an attention span especially over an individual. Her gaze did not go unnoticed.

“What did you date everyone on earth that you’re now reaching out to the extra-terrestrial?” Edmund retorts.

“It has and always will be a two-way street, you all know what the plan was when we got together.”

“Well, you must admit there was a variable now that wasn’t there when we met. The kids,” Sammy points out. Della recoils.

“My kids are my kids. Just because there may be a genetic component in favour of you does not mean they belong to you.”

“They could have,” Ace says a hint of sadness in his tone, “we could have had children.”

“We can still have kids,” Sammy suggests to Della. Though Della can’t help the slimy feeling go up her back at the implication. She just met her kids, and she already had to practically negotiate time with her kids. It was fair as she herself was ten years late to their care. It still barred her heart with guilt and pain. She already did not want to subject her kids to the pain of harbouring her soul with the burden she carried but to have it manifest as three strangers was more than she could bear to share. Though she found the point had some grounded logic, Della sighed.

“You can stay for cake.”

“I can sense there is some kind of disturbance here,” Donald says out loud. Lena walks past eating her weight in hot dogs.

“Dude, you have no idea.” Donald stops Lena grabbing her shoulders and coaxing her into walking with him.

“Hey friend, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, I could but I’m sure you’ll find out eventually on your own.” Donald could feel his body reject more feathers at the mere thought.

“Also, where did you get the hot dogs?”

“It’s not like they are in the money bin they were in the kitchen.”

“It’s been two seconds since I’ve been gone and already food is gone, and a secret is waiting for me.”

“Yeah, that sums it up.”

“I don’t know why I thought my bad luck would take a day off today.”

“Is that what that is?” Lena exclaims, “I always felt like there was this energy coming off of you, but I thought it was like a bummer dad vibe.”

“Thanks, Lena,” Donald lets go of the teen.

“No worries bro.”

“Oh no,” Huey exclaims while Dewey runs around like a chicken with his head cut off and Louie stares in shock at the askew closet door.

“We didn’t put them in a vault,” Violet offers an explanation.

“We should have put them in a vault!” Webby screams.

“This is not good,” Louie says worry on his face.

“This is a crap show,” Dewey retorts.

“I think we now need an adult,” Huey concludes, “and unfortunately I think it has to be Uncle Donald.”

“Uncle Donald,” Huey exclaims approaching his uncle. His uncle looks towards them with love. Today was making him mushier than on average. Huey opens his mouth to say something when suddenly Donald is picked up by Panchito and Jose.

“One last hooray before martyrdom.”

“I don’t have hoorays anymore I’m 36,” Donald rebuttals although, it lays on deaf ears as the two carry him off with Gladstone following in tandem with Fethry.

Huey scans the scene to latch on to some adult. He sees his mother and his heart drops. It was for her benefit supposedly to have invited someone over. Though did it really translate? His mother was working on something so fiercely, that her tongue stuck out. Huey used to see his mother in rose-coloured glasses but now he can see the bags under her eyes and her feathers unkept. He could now tell when his mother was trying to be somewhere else, but Huey couldn’t pinpoint where. He hoped it wasn’t the moon but a part of himself could practically see the stars in her eyes with earth in the background of her mind. He hoped he didn’t have something to do with that. He wasn’t the perfect son; he knew he couldn’t be because mere perfection itself was a flawed image of humanity. His mind still raced trying to find where he could accommodate, where he could strive for the lesser form of perfection.

Huey cautiously approached his mother making sure she wouldn’t be caught off guard by his presence.

“Hey Mom, what are you up to?”

“Hey Huey! I’m making a surprise for Donnie and Daisy. Fireworks!”

“You’re making them?”

“Oh course. It wouldn’t be much of a present if I bought fireworks.”

“And you’re doing it now?”

“Yeah, I just came up with the idea and I’m following it.”

“You follow the dopamine?”

“Exactly!”

“You want a hand?”

“Two if you’re willing.” Huey steps in and separates the materials handing his mother the objects she requests.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Louie approaches the two enamored with the project laid out in front of them.

“Making fireworks,” Huey explains.

“From scratch?”

“Well, I’m not making charcoal, Scrooge has given me enough for Christmas.”

“What’s up gamers,” Dewey greets.

“Making fireworks apparently,” Louie shrugs.

“You can buy them you know,” Dewey replies candidly.

“You can also buy cake from the store but isn’t it better when made at home?”

“Mom we’re kids,” Louie deadpans, “you put a cake in front of our face, and we don’t ask where it's from.” Della scoffs with endearment for their honesty.

“You should mix in the copper –“

“Stop backseat building, Fenton!”

“I know right,” Gyro joins in on the criticism without prompt.

“You simmer down until you’re more sober,” Della disciples.

“Sober?” Huey asks.

“Muted,” Della decided on the fly, “it means more serious.”

“Cool,” Huey waves off his curiosity much to Della’s relief – she did not want to teach the boys the context of drugs with everything else going on. When Della mixes in the copper with the other elements a mini explosion happens in front of Della though luckily not enough to mince her.

“Woah,” the boys simultaneously awe at the spectacle. Della panned around and noticed more than her children noticed the performance, Sammy started to approach the group and Della started to scramble.

“Okay, kids let’s put the supplies out of sight so we can surprise Donny.” The kids complied as they picked up the items to put behind the stage. Gyro follows Della’s gaze and produces a gasp. Fenton and Gandra take notice as they are usually honed into Gyro’s expressions. Della furrows her eyebrows at him and pulls Gyro, Fenton, and Gandra to the side navigating out of Sammy’s eyeline.

“You shut the fuck up. You can’t say anything to the kids.” Della exclaims to Gyro.

“What’s going on?” Fenton asks trying to decern the situation.

“Gyro…” Della warns as Gyro flaps his mouth without saying anything.

“The father!” Gyro blurts then sticks out his tongue in spite of Della.

“No,” Della argues, “it isn’t necessarily him.”

“Della,” Gandra elongated her name teasingly.

“Oh, come on, it was a long year.”

“But Sam though?” Gyro retorts, “I thought he would be too obsessed with his research to even eat let alone…”

“I thought that too and look what happened.”

“So, you don’t know who the father is?” Fenton asked timidly as a secret being shared among friends.

“Well, I have my suspects down to three.”

“Three,” Fenton exclaims, and people start to shift around him. Della puts her hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, and they are somehow all here at this wedding.”

“Well knowing our record this does track,” Gandra notes calmer than Fenton and Gyro.

“But what the hell can I do,” Della sighs, “they want to talk to the kids.”

“Well, is that the worst problem?” Fenton asks, “some kids don’t get one dad let alone three.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think the kids can handle three dads all at once.”

“Della, these kids are resilient, you remember there was a woman who stopped by and told them that she was their mother, and they opened up to her,” Gandra comforts Della. Della nods reluctantly.

“Okay, but I’m doing a background check on all of them.”

“Like you would pass,” Gyro scoffs.

“Most of the crimes are outside the country so ha,” Della retorts.

“Just talk to them,” Gandra suggests, “I think you’ll get a feel for who is there for your kids. Besides, they don’t have a limit on how much love they can produce.”

“You’re right,” Della sighs and mentally picks herself up to talk to the three guys who could be responsible for her kids. For the best thing that ever happened to her.

Chapter Text

“This wedding is going to be so far past my bedtime,” Webby notes, “and I love it! Regulated rule breakage is the best!”

“Let’s get you away from the sugar before you take enough to crash.” Lena then draws Webby away from the food table.

Huey finds Sammy in the crowd looking amongst the partygoers. Panic sets in his heart as he barrels towards him and takes him away from the potential of his mom’s line of sight.

“What are you doing?”

“You said I can go eat cake.”

“The cake comes at the end of the wedding. You’re early.”

“Always am. It’s embedded in my brain or enforced by the guidebook.”

“Which handbook?”

“The only reputable one. The Woodchuck guidebook.”

Huey gasped.

“You’re a fellow Woodchuck?”

“Fellow member as soon as I was able to walk.” Huey internally screamed with joy. This had to be some sort of sign. His mother was a Woodchuck and that’s how he initially was able to connect with her. It could be the same with a dad.

“Let’s talk more about Woodchucks and hey what about my mom.”

As Dewey was putting the fireworks away, he spotted Ace talking with Launchpad. It did produce some feelings from his best friend and his potential father figure. However, something in Dewey felt restrained from that feeling. This was a guy who never reached out to them, yes, it was something for him to show up when asked to a wedding but there was nothing stopping him from leaving. Nothing stopping heartbreak for his mother. Dewey puffed up his chest and went to talk to him to send him back to flying in the sky, without him and his mom by his side.

He didn’t need a father. It just would be nice to have. Dewey shook off his inner turmoil and went to talk to him.

“Dewey,” Launchpad exclaimed. Dewey felt his heart lift a little bit from the presence of Launchpad elevated in every room.

“Hey blue-y,” Ace greeted, “I hear piloting is in your blood.” Dewey couldn’t help but smile at the praise.

“Yeah, I mean, not to brag but… I am the best pilot ever!” Turns out he meant to brag but the look on Ace was of pride.

“That’s amazing! We could do an airshow together!”

Uh-oh planning.

“Well, uh- we could but I have a previous engagement that day.”

“What day?”

“That.”

“No way, I’m busy that day too,” Launchpad exclaims. Ace nods evidently confused. Dewey exhales glad the poor excuse went by. In truth to perform an airshow sounded like a dream but he couldn’t figure out whether or not it would be a dream with him.

Louie found himself navigating towards the entrepreneur. Almost stalking. Almost. Trying to get a whiff of the success he’s endured. Eyes meet his and Louie guiltily looks away.

“Louie?”

“Hey,” Louie drags out a greeting.

“Do you think I’m your father?”

“Well, uh, well maybe a little.” To Louie’s surprise, Edmund displays a smile on his face.

“A smart, cunning, brilliant son like you is all I could ask for.”

“Do you not have any kids?”

“Never had the time, too busy running a financial empire. Besides, seems like I wouldn’t need to worry about that anyway.” Louie gulped thinking about the other two potential dads.

“It may not be you, there are two others.” Edmund takes a breath contemplating this.

“I think your mom may have more clues for you to label the dad than what’s to the blind eye.”

“How do you figure?”

“It’s Della Duck. Look, back in New Stork we met during a business meeting. She would spend her time during the meeting doing everything but paying attention. The board member snapped and asked her a long line of questions, even I didn’t know. Without a beat she was answering them with accuracy then noted he made a typo in his slideshow. That’s when I developed a crush on her.”

“That does sound like mom.”

“You may have the option of three fathers, but a dad has to be made. One resides at the South Pole and the other is a pilot without a sediment location. I have the money and resources to stay with you guys. Just think about it.” Louie nodded taking in all the information.

“Thanks, potential dad.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. You know maybe I’ll dance with your mom first, complete that tradition.”

“How - how’d you know.”

“Not my first wedding with your mom. That same day we went to a wedding – her cousin Gus – and they were all talking about how it was a shame he was an only child.” Louie nodded contemplating about how picture-perfect it would be. He could be involved in a father-and-son business. Where he charms the clients so that they feel compelled to invest, in the company and in him.

“Here goes nothing,” Della mutters under her breath as she sets the fireworks up. She spots Donald who looks at Della wide-eyed.

“Della, what the-“ He runs towards Della motioning as they put together fireworks.

“It’s your wedding present,” Della explains simply.

“Not it’s not,” Donald argued, “it’s a gift to yourself.” Della opened her mouth with a scoff.

“Or a distraction from something,” Donald eyes Della suspiciously, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing…”

“Della?”

“Well, there may be three guys here who could be the father of your nephews.”

“Della, what the hell!”

“I know I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

“Your dumb-assery is how the kids happened maybe it can make them go away as well.”

“But do you think they should go away?”

“Yes! I’m not letting you sleep with them all again tonight.”

“Not for me! For the boys, it could be their father. Shouldn’t they know?”

“It would derail my teachings to them when they asked.”

“Why what did you tell them?”

“That it didn’t matter. That sometimes uncles can hold all the love they need.”

“Donnie, that’s sweet. But…”

“I know,” Donald sighed, “you’re here, Scrooge is here, Launchpad, Webby, Beakley, honestly, who isn’t here.”

“What’s like three more.”

“Do you think they would be like actual fathers? I don’t think that was a requirement to… gross, sleep with?”

“Neither was I. Maybe I should give them the chance that everyone gave me.” Della sighed slopping her shoulders down, “is that the responsible decision? I’m not messing up my kids further with this, am I?” Donald put his hand on Della’s shoulder.

“Nah.”

“Oh ok.”

“Della,” Donald pauses, “do you really feel that you’re doing the bare minimum?”

“I hope I am. Am I?”

“Della, of course you are. Even better than that.” Della smiles tightly at the compliment trying to restrain the tears welling up behind her eyes.

“Thanks, loser.”

“You’re welcome, slut,” Donald shakes his head, “that may be too close to home today.”

“That’s okay,” Della smiled, “and hey, your real gift is with Daisy.” Donald sighed not buying the sediment.

“Della please tell me you didn’t give her a bomb or a weapon or a convoluted present that only you like.”

“Donny, I have shared a womb with you, I assure you, you’re going to like the present I got you two.”

“Ew Della,” Donald concluded in his head.

“No not something like that come on.”

“Okay okay… thank you.”

“Let’s not make this a common thing,” Della resolves. Donald nods.

“Della,” a voice booms cutting through the crowd, “what are the colourful lines darting up in the sky.” It was Penumbra much to Della’s delight, she hadn’t received the pleasure to interact with her due to the bustle of the wedding.

“Fireworks, aren’t they beautiful?”

“I reckon something bright, loud, and violent is beautiful.”

“Oh boy,” Donald mutters under his breath. Della elbows him with more force than required leading Donald to leave the conversation in a huff.

“I have not been able to parlay with you on this day of celebration.” Della rubs her elbows awkwardly.

“I wish I could I have a lot going on today, but we’ll find time together.”

“Of course, roomie.” Della smiled at the absurd nickname that only Penny could alter a positional title to a ‘loving’ nickname. Out of the corner of Della’s eye, she spots one of the potential paternal figures.

“Gotta go,” Della cries to Penny as she barrels towards Sammy and Ace. Della didn’t know if it was more suspicious that they were together or that Edmund wasn’t with them.

“Hey, you two, enjoying the party.”

“Della, I’ve only been to a party once and it contained -70-degree temperatures and fighting the penguins that invited me,” Sammy explains.

“So, this party sucks in comparison huh,” Della intuits poorly.

“I love this party, I got to meet this beautiful man,” Ace gestures to Sammy with grandeur. Sammy blushes. “And I ran into you, and I met the kids. You must admit it is creepy how much Dewey is into piloting, like his potential pop.”

“Oh, and how Huey is a Woodchuck just like me.” Della shakes her head in confusion.

“I’m also a pilot and a Woodchuck. And these are interests, not genetics. You do have other interests though, right? Not just things that align with my kids.”

“What like adult stuff, like taxes,” Ace inquires, “but I don’t like doing taxes.”

“Oh, I do, you should forward me your taxes,” Sammy interjects to a new line of conversation.

“Oh, shit I have not done my taxes in years,” Della contemplates.

“Della tsk tsk,” Sammy jests.

“Out of all the reasons you have to go to jail taxes aren’t the most badass reason,” Ace states.

“Well in my defense I have been declared dead for ten years.”

“What?” Ace and Sammy ask simultaneously.

“I was on the moon for ten years without communication.”

“For fun?” Ace asks.

“No, I crashed.”

“Oh, this makes much more sense,” Sammy concludes.

“That’s why you have the hots for the purple lady,” Ace also concludes.

“I mean I meant why you contacted us now to come.” Della shook her head.

“Actually, it doesn’t make sense because I didn’t contact you.” Ace furrows his brow and whips out the letter addressed to himself.

“Then why do I have a letter from the McDuck manor saying to come to this wedding with amateur drawings of you and I kissing in crayons – oh wait – I think I pieced this together.” Della looks at the letter recognizing it as Dewey’s writing with Webby’s drawing.

“Hey that isn’t an amateur drawing, I mean she drew the hands well, that’s the hardest part,” Della defends Webby her honorary daughter.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I did find it weird that this letter had the return address as Huey Duck, not Della,” Sammy reasoned.

“Those kids, I can’t tell whether to be impressed or to give an impromptu lesson about privacy.”

“You could do both,” Sammy figured. Della snapped a finger gun at Sammy.

“Perfect solution, say, you could be a parent. Of course, only if you wanted to.”

“I feel guilty though I haven’t seen them grow up,” Ace says.

“Hey, well, captain of that club. If they like you and if I trust you guys, then why not. If it’s too much pressure you could be ‘uncles’ or lineage buddies.”

Louie saw Della and two out of the three fathers in his gaze. A conflicted feeling fought out in his gut trying to determine what it meant. The conversation seemed lighthearted. Could his mom be explaining that they weren’t the father? Could it provide them with relief? Louie tried to find more clues through his mother’s demeanor. He also could spot the third father amongst himself eating food. He looked at Louie and executed a wink. Louie smiled giving a small wave in return.

Louie ran into Gladstone which was perfect for his impromptu investigation. Usually, Dewey and Webby conducted this stuff but he’d do it in a pinch. Especially, since when panned to them he could see them in the middle of a circle doing a dance battle. Huey was with Violet and Boyd competing with built-on-the-fly bots with Fenton and Gandra making inputs.

“Hey Gladstone, I had a question.”

“Why am I so handsome? It’s simply a combination of genetics and luck.” Louie rolled his eyes.

“No gross. I was going to ask if you were at Gus’ wedding.”

“Which one?” Then Gladstone laughed, “just kidding, divorce jokes, splitting up the country. Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you remember Della there with an Edmund?”

“Hey, yeah, I do. Say is that your father? Because like right after the wedding she was talking about his… building.” Gladstone finished gradually censoring himself. Louie figured he was referencing the building he owned, maybe his mom was impressed with the architecture.

“Are there any clues that my mom would reference if he was the dad?”

“Sorry kiddo, but hey if he came here that could be a sign. And your mom is wearing his jacket.”

“The aviator jacket?”

“Yeah, I remember him wearing it at the wedding. Oh, look can you believe twenty dollars was just under my foot.”

“Yes, I can.” Gladstone then walks away and then Louie hears.

“Grandma Elvira, you’re still alive!”

The wedding commences. Everyone in the crowd is starry-eyed at Daisy’s dress and the way she is wearing it. Scrooge McDuck walks her down the aisle, more than happy to be another surrogate. May and June begged to be the flower girls loving the idea of throwing stuff as part of a wedding ritual. Dewey, Huey, and Louie are groomsmen for Donald – albeit all in title none in the responsibilities. Daisy stood with Webby, Della, and her best friend – who had no relation to anyone else on Donald’s side – which frankly was a bit of a relief for Daisy.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant recites. The two kiss although it remains tame being both shy and not wanting to give anyone other than the age of 100 a reason to die. Della whooped nonetheless at the kiss.

“I think it’s sweet,” Huey comments.

“Ew,” Louie replies, though keeping it to his brothers not wanting to draw Donald’s attention.

May and June run up to Daisy and Donald.

“Even though you’re married you still love us, right?” May asks. Donald cups his hands in the girls’ hair nodding profusely.

“You can’t siphon love,” Donald explains, Daisy nods agreeing with her husband.

“So, Della was right,” June comments. Donald runs a hand across his face.

“She’s right surprisingly about a lot of things. Just not about music, self-care, mental health, or about me.”

“She’s a little right,” Daisy disputes lightheartedly. Donald gives her a glance before going to tickle her.

“Only about music, I swear,” Daisy laughs.

The crowd dispenses for the party where everyone blurs together. Della walks trying to find her kids in the crowd when she’s pulled away to the side. Della runs eye to eye with Edmund.

“We need to talk,” Edmund declares.

Chapter Text

“Well, I hope so. I’m not allowed to ‘slut it up’ today.” Edmund despite it all chuckles at that.

“See you're funny, smart, and beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Della says confused, “I’m a real catch. What’s up, Ed.”

“I’m a catch too, come on Della. Let’s do the first dance together. Remember the last wedding we were at together.”

“Yeah, my first time doing the cha-cha slide,” Della comments not understanding the path this talk was going down.

“I mean when we created the kids.”

“Oh, don’t put it like that,” Della scoffed cringing at the terminology, “also, I’m not sure if you’re the guy. We had a good day together, although it was errand-based. I attended Scrooge’s meeting then we went to my cousin’s wedding. Are you looking to conjure some of the feelings you felt back then?” Edmund nods.

“The thing is I’m not going to sleep with you. I also didn’t share those feelings with you.”

“But you’re wearing my jacket.”

“Yeah, it’s a good jacket. It’s the only jacket I have that’s over 100 dollars. I was raised by Scrooge I learned to be thrifty.” Della saw Edmund’s eyes light up at Scrooge’s name as a result of that she huffed walking away with Edmund on her tail.

“That’s why you’re here. You want some sort of political relationship so that you could have Scrooge line your pockets.”

“No, not unethically.” Della turns around to face Edmund.

“Using me is not unethical?”

“I really did like you.”

“Well, I never liked you. Besides right after you went to Macaw for months and it wasn’t like you left with any contact information.”

“You never liked me,” Edmund fixated, “you sleep with someone you don’t even like?”

“So what? I don’t get it.”

“Nobody does that,” Edmund argues, “are you gay?”

“I’m not a relationship person,” Della argued party ignoring the question. She wasn’t going to fall into a trap like that.

“Then you can have me like a crutch.” The word choice was quite poor, and he looked at her leg guiltily.

“I meant for your kids,” he clarifies and that just riles Della up to pull her fist back and give him a punch that could be heard across the room.

“If you hurt any of my kids for a fucking business opportunity, I am making you lose the ability to ever have another potential offspring.” Della leaves not looking back. She walks away from the prying eyes following her and walks into a closet to sob.

The atmosphere was all too familiar. Della felt like the darkness was a blanket suffocating her. Initially, the thought of a quiet, dark space was appealing but with the past catching up to her, she found herself wrapped up in another aspect of her life. The sobs become gasps, and she can’t fucking breathe. The closet felt like it eating up the oxygen like a rocket. She was immersed in the dark for weeks in the cold, merciless space. The worst of it was not facing Earth, not facing her boys.

She used to think that those moments were when her communication was on the fritz making up illogical excuses for why she felt so abandoned. She would always tinker with it. Turns out it always worked, worked for one man to witness her slow isolated deuteriation. Della feels her chest constrict tightly; her breathing accelerates. Della decides she must be dying her time on the moon finally catching up to her. Was it better than dying on the moon? Was it better to build a relationship with her sons than die or would it have been better if they never knew her?
The door knocks.

“Occupied,” Della says meekly. Even when dying she tries to make it harder for herself. Who knows when someone else would open this closet. Would it be Beakly doing a routine cleaning? Instead of the expected cobwebs and dust bunnies, it would be them uncovering her body.

The door decides to open anyway. The figure floods Della’s sight.

“Am I dead?” Della figures the person is an angel the equivalent of whatever almighty figure got to have her.

“That’s kind of sweet you think of me as so strikingly beautiful to take your life away.”

“Selene?”

“Hey, sweetie. I could feel your distress. I knew I was needed here. And I found out why,” Selene ended with a glint of anger in her eyes. Della although distracted still experiencing the bulk of her attack as she was still shaking and keeping her breaths shallow. Selene touches Della’s arms with purpose.

“Babe breathe. You’re not dying. Believe me, if you were I wouldn’t be so calm.” Della tries to breathe, to center herself to earth as opposed to the moon. It takes a bit but, in a few minutes, Della is able to get back to herself.

“So, you saw Edmund?” Della asks casually.

“Yeah, I killed him.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding,” Selene laughs.

“So, you really just came here to see me?” Della suggests her voice tentative around the idea.

“Della my love,” Selene cups her hands on Della’s face, “you came and I was crazy for you and you cooled my mind that burned with longing.”

“Sappho,” Della recited. It was a time they had exchanged quotes trying to find something that paralleled their feelings for each other. Instead, they merely seemed to Frankenstein something that brushed close to the truth.

“Sappho is regarded so highly for her works on lesbians but who do you think inspired her.”

“You’ve told me this before,” Della retorts smiling at the familiarity of her brags.

“Oh shit, I hope I’m not already becoming boring.”

“If you were getting boring now, I would have already been as boring as a paperclip.”

“What the hell is a paperclip?” Selene asked.

“Oh honey, we’re not going to be bored for at least a millennium.”

Louie spotted Goldie with Scrooge. Louie stomached his cringe at her demeanor with Scrooge and snuck up towards her. As she left Scrooge and headed for the bar Louie smiled.

“I got your wallet!”

“Great job Sharpie. How about you open it and reap the rewards, a finder’s fee you could say.” Louie still feeling good about this victory opened the wallet to find a sticky note saying, ‘Nice try Louie,’ right beside it said ‘Nice try Scrooge’ on another sticky note.

“Goddamnit,” Louie swore. Goldie smiled.

“I see your mother hasn’t been watching her language with you kids.”

“I’m like 12 I’ve heard worse swears from a lot of sources. Enough to fill a dictionary.” Goldie shrugs taking a sip of her drink.

“Something bothering you kid. There was a reason I only showed up for the party.” Louie took that notion as an invitation to sit next to her.

“I think my mom hates my pick of my father.”

“This isn’t new lingo, is it?” Goldie asked dryly.

“I wish it was. So, I found a document dated figured it was my father, invited him for the wedding, now he’s moody and mom’s missing.”

“That’s quite the rap sheet kid.”

“I know, I just wanted my mom to be happy. And for the money, maybe I was mostly thinking about the money.”

“Sharpie, I know this is tough hearing this from me, but it doesn’t seem like that was a great scheme. Inviting someone with potential parent relations to a wedding is the last thing I would do if I were trying to scheme money from them. I have two things on the top of my head to do instead.”

“Go on.”

“No,” Goldie pauses, “I don’t think I will. Anyway, kid sometimes honesty is integral to saving your behind. Take that as you will.”

Louie eyes the aforementioned man he now knew he needed to talk to nursing his face with an ice pack. He approaches Edmund tentatively.

“You know my mom doesn’t just punch anyone. You must have really caused an impact.”

“Yeah, I really did,” Edmund replied wringing out the ice starting to melt wetting the towel.

“So, I was the one who sent the invitation, not my mom.”

“Kid, I know.” Louie hated that he was seen through that easily.

“But look, family is crazy. And I’m sorry I got you here on false pretenses, I guess I just wanted another puzzle to be added to this crazy family.”

“Yeah well, this family is a bit too bloated for me,” Edmund lamented recuperating his sense of emasculation, “when I was a younger man, I think I could handle more of a firecracker but now.” Edmund left the rest unsaid as he dug into his inner coat pocket, “if you need a consultant in insurance give my assistant a call.” Edmund then proceeded to leave. Louie was flabbergasted.

“Insurance? I could have been accompanied by an insurance guy.” Louie shuttered. He was approached by Huey and Dewey tentatively.

“That looked prickly,” Dewey commented.

“Are you okay?” Huey asks.

“An insurance guy broke up with me?” Louie exclaimed offended, “brushed me off first!”

The three are approached by Della the recent activity has not gone unnoticed the three decide to act coy.

“Hey, best mom ever,” Dewey hypes his mom up and proceeds to give her a hug to solidify his sediment.

“I think we’re long overdue for a little chat.”

“I’m sorry,” Dewey cries, “I’m not sure what I did but I didn’t mean it.”

“The wedding invitations?” Della inquired.

“Oh yeah I did do that and meant it,” Dewey remedied.

“What I’ve gathered is that you three found a selected portion of my writings understood this man to be your fathers found a way to contact but didn’t communicate this to your other brothers leading to three men showing up unbeknownst between the three of you.”

“Yeah exactly,” Huey praised, “you read it exactly right.”

“So where did you find the writings?”

“In your mom-orial,” Dewey answered.

“Patent pending,” Louie supplied.

“That is a perfect name, I love it! Anyway, where in the mom-orial?”

“Well, there were sheets of paper skewed around,” Huey explained.

“I remember I was deconstructing the room to get my stuff back. I don’t remember ripping pages out so they must have been pulled out for some reason.”

“Surely not by Scrooge,” Donald interjected.

“Donald you’re supposed to be hitched,” Della scoffed.

“Hitched doesn’t mean I become invisible. And besides, I think I know who did it.”

“Me too,” Ace interjected much to the group's surprise.

“Me as well,” Sammy agreed.

“Well, that sobers up my revelation,” Donald grouches.

“Hey, don’t be down on yourself,” Ace comforts, “the only reason we knew was from the person contacting us. You found out with some thinking instead.”

“Okay,” Donald lamented.

“So, what we realized is that for the past ten years, we’ve been reached out to but due to our busy natures we’ve never really intersected,” Sammy explained.

“And we thought it was really a scam because it was vague and didn’t make sense. He didn’t let up any real information,” Ace continues, “and we guess that since we didn’t interact he let go and left the pages there.”

“Who? I’m literally bursting at the seams here,” Webby interjects. Following the voice, they could pinpoint it to the vents.

“Is anyone not here?” Della asks expecting silence.

“Certainly not Fenton, Gandra, and me,” Gyro pointed out.

“Some buzz killer Brad-“

“-Ford.”

“Oh, come on,” Huey groaned, “not that guy again.”

“Yeah, sometimes this stuff gets old,” Louie admits.

“Like him, and now he is a buzzard. I think. I forget what happened there,” Dewey says.

“Also, kids, can I ask why you all read these private entries?” Della asks. The noise of Webby running away via vents was heard along with anyone else who wasn’t the kids and Donald leaving the room in droves.

“So?” Della prompts expectingly.

“We got to know you before you were here by snooping,” Dewey reasons.

“Nobody in our household tells us anything,” Louie huffs. Della could recollect the same sentiment in her younger self. A lot of rhetoric would be suppressed by the adults or spoken about behind closed doors in hurried hushed voices that Della would strain to hear. It was only when her parents passed and after a couple years of walking shells around them that she and Donald were let in on the conversations. Turned out it wasn’t as good as her imagination made it up to be. Instead of being another co-conspirator to a mystery, it was much more along the lines of fighting with ghosts in their past – unfortunately, mentally not physically. Family members getting pushed away, PR stressors, and actually being co-conspirators being summoned for court.

“Okay, I think I get it. But there is a level where snooping becomes harder for both parties involved.”

“Okay, cool did not know that before,” Louie tries to snake away from responsibility.

“Yes, you did,” Donald exclaims. Louie cringes.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were there.” Donald rolls his eyes.

“But hey this time, and maybe this time only I think the snooping and mailing without my consent kind of paid off.”

“Della!” Donald exclaims trying to reign her thinking in.

“I mean not Edmund,” Della retorted thinking that was what Donald was referring to, “but Sammy and Ace seem to,” Della hesitates to try to configure the proper language for ‘want to hook up’, “find each other hidden tax?”

“Della that’s disgusting,” Donald scoffs.

“Heard tax so I stopped listening,” Dewey exclaimed.

“I kind of want to know about taxes,” Huey admits.

“Me too,” Louie agrees.

“No,” Della and Donald respond simultaneously.

“I’m just saying you brought people together tonight and maybe integrate them into our lives too.” Louie hung his head exhibiting some shame that out of the three options his pick was so terrible. Della noticed and got down to his level with a hand placed on his shoulder.

“And hey, you brought closure, that’s pretty cool.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Who are you going to dance with now?” Dewey asks.

“Yeah, who is your soulmate? Who are you going to spend the rest of your life with?” Huey asks.

“I think I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

Panchito and Jose played out the first song for the new bride and groom. The two dance slowly in an embrace with very small foot movements to avoid any chance of falling. With the combination of Donald’s unluckiness and Daisy’s long cathedral train, they just wanted the chance to embrace while being PG enough.

The next couple was up to Della. The tradition of the sibling taking a dance with the soulmate. Della hated the concept of soulmate. The idea of an exclusive romance with someone was out of her grasp. She has tried it, the romance, the monogamy but it always ended the same, with panic and a sense of entrapment where she tried to escape the relationship like a bear trap, and she’s been in a fair amount to know – the object not the type of gay guy.

Della’s sexuality has always been scrutinized by others, the need to grow up, she was shallow, or she hadn’t found the right person yet were always said. It was an extra layer after her bisexuality if people could accept that as a concept first. It was always another thing people wouldn’t get, that she could yell till she turned blue, and people wouldn’t listen set with their ways of thinking. People trying to uncomplicate the very complicated world which was a shame in some ways. The complexities made the world worth exploring.

Della set out onto the dance floor. On her way there she gathered her kids and dragged them with her. Dewey, Huey, and Louie are all holding onto Della with giggles. Della danced with them next to Donald and Daisy.

“You guys are the people I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t need anyone else. I mean besides,” Della grabbed Webby and squeezed her with all her might. Della also grabbed May and June onto the dance floor and pulled Scrooge out of his chair. He followed pretending to be annoyed over being involved but Della couldn’t help but notice the smile that he tried to hide. Afterwards, everyone was inclined to join the happy couple the song started to pick up.

Fenton and Gandra clung to each other as if they had foregone their separate skins. Ace and Sammy danced together lightheartedly Sammy showing off his killer dance moves inspired by the penguins he researched albeit from afar. Della looked at Penumbra who stayed sat watching her. Della approached her coyly.

“Hi, roomie!” Penumbra greeted, “great earth party, the best one I’ve been to!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to better ones.” Penny sighed in relief.

“Hey wanna dance?” Della prompts.

“Like those people,” Penumbra points out Launchpad and Drake dancing fairly platonically unless you knew the context of their relationship which unfortunately Della knew by accident, “or those people?” Pointing out Gandra and Fenton who were not dancing platonically. A blush creeps up Della’s face at the implication, and she is not a blushful woman.

“Maybe we can dance our own way.”

“But it won’t be as good as the earthlings.”

“Hey,” Della said comfortingly, “you haven’t seen Dewey, we’re all bad at dancing compared to him.”

“You’re right,” Penumbra smiled.

“Besides, if you really want to learn, I can teach you how to dance at your place.” Penumbra hesitates before realizing the proposition.

“Oh, you mean sex-“

“Shh, little ears are around.”

“I’ll say I don’t even see ears on you.”

“You can find them later.”

“You mean when we have-”

"Yes," Della interrupts.

At 11 o’clock pm, Donald and Daisy were resting on each other slightly drunk and tired from the day’s event, on top of it being so late without any naps throughout the day.

“You’re pretty,” Daisy coos at Donald slightly slurred.

“Nah you take the cake for prettiness.” Daisy pinches Donald’s cheeks in thanks.

“Hey, who were those three guys who were with Della and the boys, I didn’t recognize them.”

“Oh yeah, those guys were the potential father to them.”

“What?” Daisy sobered a tad in shock.

“I think I forgot to tell you that,” Donald concludes, “to be fair if I told you every development that happened to Della, we’d never not talk about her.”

“So,” Daisy adjusted herself, so she was positioned in Donald’s lap ready for a story, “which one was the father?”

“We still don’t know who the real father was, it wouldn’t surprise me if Della found out a way to get the father’s DNA out of the equation with Selene.”

“Is Selene and Della’s relationship like you and Storkules?” Donald coughed in shock. He never spoke about their relationship at length. He didn’t divulge into that information with anyone let alone with a current partner.

“Well, what we had was very much a one-sided infatuation. We got ‘together’ once and then that was all. We weren’t compatible but he just didn’t know that. With Selene to Della, she’s someone special, I don’t think anyone could categorize their relationship into a descriptor.”

“That’s kind of beautiful.”

“I suppose but I think I would rather have this kind of relationship,” Donald said kissing Daisy on the cheek.

“You’re sweet,” Daisy pointed out patting Donald on the cheek. Louie then approached the two with a smile plastered across his face.

“Uncle Donald, Aunt Daisy,” Louie greeted, “I know you have been saving a lot for the wedding and the honeymoon. I think that’ll help.” Louie gave Donald a wad of cash in the sum of 5,000 dollars. Louie figured he could reap child support anyway from Edmund there would be no way he would be harder to pickpocket than Goldie, and he was right.

“Louie,” Donald was shocked, “where did you get this?”

“Shh, it’s your wedding gift.”

“No seriously Louie where-“

“Shh. Shh. It’s your gift.”

“Hey, as long as you didn’t steal from a charity I’ll take it,” Daisy concludes.

“No ethical dilemmas were made while collecting this money.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Donald states.

“I mean you’ve spent so much money and time on us, I was hoping to make it up to you.”

“Louie,” Donald approaches Louie at his level, “you don’t have to make it up to me. Having a clever, thoughtful, and resourceful boy right in front of me is more than enough. Trust me just having you alive and happy… hopefully then that’s amazing.” Louie clutched onto Donald letting himself sink into him like he did when he was younger pretending his limbs were jelly.

“I’m sorry,” Louie mumbles into Donald’s shoulder.

“For whatever reason?”

“I don’t know, I just want you to know that you’ve done a lot, better than a stupid rich prick.”

“So that guy is still affecting you, eh?”

“What gave it away?”

“Louie look, I can’t blame you for your curiosity and for looking for another piece of yourself.”

“If that guy is my father what does that make me?”

“Like I said, you’re clever, thoughtful, and resourceful. Genetically, you’re already messed up by our side. So, if anything another person alleviates some of the McDuck and Duck burden.”

“But you’re all adventurers, successful, smart adventurers.” At that remark, Donald laughed.

“Those stories are cherry-picked and embellished. Della and I have to tell you some more stories that are true and embarrassing if your ancestors overheard.”

“Uncle Donald!” Huey and Dewey ran up to Donald giving him a hug that knocked him over like a bowling pin.

“Careful I only have one spinal cord that I have to use for the rest of my life,” Donald joked.

“You’re married!” Huey points out, “does that mean you guys are going to move somewhere?”

“Does that mean you’re going to have kids?” Dewey asks.

“Hey, I want to stay the baby!” Louie exclaims.

“Okay, okay,” Donald laments, “let us have our honeymoon first.”

“Tomorrow, right?” Huey asks pointing behind Donald, “because Aunt Daisy is asleep.” Much to Huey’s observation Daisy was sprawled out on the chairs sleeping.

“Yeah, we’ll go tomorrow. For now, how about a sleepover in the boat?”

“Oh, good I can access my candy stash,” Dewey notes.

“When was the last time you saw your candy stash?” Donald asks.

“Two years.”

“In the sun and with the humidity of the boat?” Donald clarifies.

“You betcha.”

“Mmm, well we’re going to find something, it may or may not be a candy and I may or may not throw up.”

“Cool, sounds fun,” Louie concludes.

Della sighed as she looked down at Gyro who was crashing from his previous state of numbing euphoria. She let the guy place his head on her lap and absentmindedly ran her hands through his head.

“I hate that this feels amazing,” Gyro groans, “why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t know maybe I’m also on drugs.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gyro jests poking Della’s cheek, “you love me.” Della shrugged.

“It is nice not to have every decision judged and gawked at. I’m actually surprised you haven’t called me a slut.”

"Well kettle, black,” Gyro points out, “the only reason I hadn't gotten pregnant was because of my hysterectomy, and besides now I'm too angsty to try anymore."

"Try what?"

"You know, the song and dance with guys. When you reach 40, they either think you're too closeted or assume you're a sex god and I'm too tired to be one." Della chuckled at that.

“I hate the song and dance! When you just want to be friends with benefits or have one-night stands. Even when you’re upfront with people it’s like they don’t believe you or they think they’ll be different, that romance is just an inherent part of being alive. Or even worse when they like it way too much and use it as an excuse to be a shitty person.”

“Exactly,” Gyro agrees, “or just the little things that everyone around you says or when they judge you as if you’re slacking as a person or immature.”

“Yeah, like I’m immature but not for my sexuality.”

“See, this is why I like you. But you do you too much vagina for me.”

“Yeah, and you have a little too much,” Della just gestured to Gyro’s whole body.

“Thanks. You know what I want as a hangover treat?”

“What.”

“Some black licorice.” Della pushes Gyro away.

“You’re a bitch. I’m pretty sure my epithelial cells are replaced by black licorice you actual dick.”

“Sounds good to me.” Della scoffs. Although, she isn’t lying with her epithelial cells replaced by black licorice the anger she felt towards Gyro over the past has dwindled even when he brings it out of her. It was honestly just easier to display anger towards little acts than to focus it on herself and explode. Although, eating black licorice for ten years was not a little act, okay maybe she did have some genuine anger towards that specifically. But having a sustaining friendship outside of blood obligations was worth something to Della.

“How much of tonight do you remember?” Della prompts.

“How much do you remember?” Gyro retorts back.

“Touche, but seriously do you remember what you said to me earlier.”

“No,” Gyro cringes, “all I really remember is eating too many hotdogs and that’s because I can feel them coming up. “

“Well, you admitted that you missed me.”

“Oh, barf.”

“Well besides my own voice, I constantly heard yours in the rocket manual, but I couldn’t strangle you, and believe me I tried.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you missed the flesh that invited you to strangle me.”

“Yeah, it would have been a real stress reducer.”

“Has anyone ever told you what you did was really impressive?”

“My doctor was kind of impressed and also kind of shocked.”

“You have a doctor?”

“That was a contributor to being impressed. I mean the deterioration in my bone was far less than what they thought was normal.”

“God and you’re still running around?”

“I mean my muscles certainly improved even with the less gravity, I somehow did enough to prevent muscle atrophy.”

“I’m honestly not surprised.”

“Why am I feeling tired?” Della asked mostly to herself trying to stifle a yawn.

“When was the last time you fell asleep?” Della had to think about that.

“At least in the past 48 hours, I had my eyes closed for a sustained period of time.”

“And I thought I was a bad insomniac.” Della doesn’t respond. Gyro looks and she is asleep but clinging to Gyro. It was weirdly maternal. Then he has to remind himself Della was responsible for three kids. Even then, before the kids she did have a side to her who would take care of Fethry. Even with him, leaving a glass of water when he would be ‘soberly challenged’.

Gyro looked at Della sleeping sitting with her head in an awkward angle. He cringed at the thought of her waking up hours with her neck fucked up. If he was nice, he would have readjusted her position to have Della rest without repercussions. But he didn’t have the foresight to be nice.

“Hey, wake up you’re going to fuck up your neck.”

“Fuck you,” Della complained but readjusted her neck, nonetheless.

“Dr. Gearloose” Boyd exclaimed holding a rock.

“You made a rock sentient, just like your father,” Gyro said pride swelling his voice.

“He’s sweet too, but I don’t know where that could have come from,” Della points out.

“I don't know neither!”

In the morning, Daisy and Donald waved bye to the kids along with Della. They wanted to think that their honeymoon was top secret. In reality, everyone knew but decided for once in their life not to squeal and let them be by themselves.

Webby gave Della patches she created with Huey for her aviator jacket. It was a heart.

“For your kids,” Huey states, “it represents your love for us.”

“That’s perfect, I don’t need love for anyone else.” Goldie walks past them in the same outfit she had on the night before.

“Good morning, Ace, Sharpie, Blue-y, and the Red one.” Della's mouth is agape as she looks behind herself to see Scrooge looking a little smug.

“Oh, come on!” Della exclaimed grossed out, “let’s go find some peace from this debauchery.”

“Della,” Scrooge cries, “you have been way worse, practically parading people around the house.”

“Shut up old man, come on kids let’s go play laser tag or something.”

“Yay,” the kids cheer unanimously. Scrooge smiled even wider.

“Peace and quiet."