Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes Donald couldn’t help but think of how much easier it could be back when it was just him and the boys on the boat. It’s not something he liked to think about often, or even could for that matter with the jobs and adventuring, but he still found in some moments, when his nephews came back hurt or when he showed up to an empty houseboat, slinking back to those thoughts.

What had prompted the thought process that day was a realization from a quick glance at his calendar full of marks for his anger management appointments that his nephews’ birthday was a month away and he had absolutely no idea what to get them.

In the past it had been quite simple. He would get Dewey a watergun or soccer ball and watch as he played with it for a week before he either broke it, lost it, or moved onto something else. For Huey all he needed to do was get him the supplies he needed for his next Junior Woodchuck badge, a used baking book from a thrift shop to earn his baking badge or some needle and thread for a stitching badge and watch as a large smile grew on Huey’s face. Louie was the easiest of them all, either wanting another version of his favorite green hoodie, or simply money, preferable in the form of single dollar bills so it felt like more.

But the move to the mansion had given his nephews much higher expectations, Dewey’s standard for fun rising above toys, Huey earning badges easily every other week, and Louie’s drive for money- and encouragement by Scrooge- getting him much more than Donald ever could

Donald thought on all of this as he trudged around the mansion’s kitchen, hoping to get some breakfast before his five a.m shift at the docks, his latest job that would hopefully last more than two weeks. He grabbed a box of Quackeroats and opened up the kitchen cabinet, reaching for a bowl on the top shelf.

Much to his horror (though he should have expected it at that point) the bowl he grabbed promptly knocked into another stack of bowls as he was pulling it out causing them to crash to the floor as he hurriedly moved out of the way of the impact. He stared at the bowls on the ground and rubbed his face as he considered how much Uncle Scrooge would make him pay for the damages.

‘At least I still got this bowl,’ he thought glumly as he set it down and moved to get a broom and dustpan. He needed to quickly clean up the mess just in case any of the kids woke up from the noise and started to investigate. He didn’t want them walking on glass.

‘Though I guess by now they’ve had more danger then that’

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for the children that they got to live a better and bigger life then he could ever give them (even if he was worried about them every second they were out of his sight). He just couldn’t help but think how they didn’t need him anymore, he couldn’t give them anything Scrooge couldn’t, in fact he could only give them less.

Donald paused in his cleaning, and shook himself to clear away the thoughts.

‘No! No thinking like that, it’s a good thing the kids don’t need me! Less stress all around, they’re happier and I should be happier too!’

Donald poured the full dustpan into the bin and began turning around to clean up the rest when his foot caught on a loose glass shard, and he began to fall. Donald hurriedly tried to catch himself swinging his left hand to grab the counter, which unfortunately was the hand with the broom in it, which smacked into the remaining intact bowl he set down and sent it flying to the floor with a crash, Donald soon following afterwards.

He groaned as he rubbed his head, sitting up and surveying the damage.

“Ah phooey.”

Donald got up to once again attempt at cleaning when the door to the kitchen flew open.

“Stop intruder! In the name of the law or- oh hi Donald!”

There in the doorway stood Webby, still dressed in her pink pajamas with bed hair, fighting position slowly fading away and features brightening with the realization that it was just another one of Donald’s accidents and not Scrooge’s various enemies.

“Here, let me help you!” she said brightly- and maybe a bit too loudly for the time it was- as she raced over and bent down to pick up the glass pieces.

“No wait! You may hurt-”

“Ouch!”

“-yourself…”

Webby gripped her hand as blood began to poor out on her feathers in a slow but steady stream. Although she grimaced at the sight she was quick to lighten up again as she looked up at Donald.

“Ah don’t worry, I’ve had worse than this! Like this one time me and Dewey found this vine monster in the garage with a lot of thorns on it which was cool and painful to punch! I’ll just go get the first aid kit!”

Webby quickly leapt to her feet and began racing towards the door when Donald walked forward and like he’s done with the boys many times before, picked her up and deposited her on the kitchen counter.

“No you don’t need to do that, I was the one that made this mess, besides I know where your grandma keeps her emergency first aid kit in here.”

If there was one person more paranoid than Donald it was Benita Beakly, who stashed a first aid kit in every room in the mansion. Given Donald’s, numerous, NUMEROUS, accidents, he has become well acquainted with where they were. He went over to one of the kitchen tiles and pulled it up revealing the first aid kit.

“Are you sure? Because I can wrap gauze really fast! One time at a… totally….. not….. suspicious island, I managed to patch myself up in five minutes, while having arrows shot at me!”

Donald chuckled at her words, taking her hand and wiping alcohol on the wound. Webby winced but didn’t cry out like other, probably more well-adjusted, children might have.

“When he was younger Dewey managed to get into the utensil drawer and tried juggling them.”

“I guess he didn’t do a good job?”

“He didn’t know how to juggle at all, if you can bandage a crying, screaming kid with about six fork punctures, you can bandage anyone.”

Donald put the bandaid on Webby’s hand and lifted it to kiss it, like he’s done with his boys numerous times in the past, but paused realizing she was in fact, not his child, and set her hand down gently.

“Thank you!” Webby said, once again in a voice much too loud, and hopped down from the counter. “Can I help again with the cleaning, now that I’m all patched up?” Donald looked and saw hopeful eyes gazing up at him. But Donald had had his fair share of hopeful eyes.

“I want to avoid any further accidents for now-”

Webby’s smile dropped as disappointment overtook her face.

Okay maybe Donald wasn’t as immune to children’s emotions as he would like to be.

“-but I do need your help with something else.”

Webby once again brightened up, it’s amazing how short children’s attention spans were. Donald picked up the previously discarded broom and dustpan and set about as he readied the question he wished he didn’t have to ask about his own chil-. Nephews.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s birthday is coming up and I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with them on adventures, so I was wondering if you might know what they would want?”

Donald turned away, embarrassed to admit his own ignorance as he busied himself with collecting the remaining of the glass shards. It was silent for a few moments and curious Donald turned back around to find a concentrated look on Webby’s face, eyebrows burrowed and hand on her chin.

“Well I know Dewey really liked that ancient sword we saw back in the Abandoned Caves of Tra-La-La! But we had to cast it into the Ocean of Forgotten Souls because who ever wielded the blade turned blood crazy. Hewey wanted to meet the founder of the woodchuck guide book and we actually just found a mirror to the past yesterday in the Ruins of the Ancient city of Scamtinez! Although the mirror is a bit effy, it showed us each a different past and we all started fighting with each other….. Oh! I know Louie wanted money, if I remember correctly I think the last amount of money he asked Uncle Scrooge for was 2,000 dollars.”

Donald emptied the last of the glass into the trash and he leaned against his broom. So essentially what this meant was he could offer the boys nothing and will forever remain the boring, worst uncle. Great. Wonderful even. Donald sighed, not even having the energy to phooey anymore.

“But I’m really sure what the boys would love the most,-” Webby began saying as she walked over to the disgruntled Donald, “-is anything you give them, they love you Donald and they’re lucky to have you.” Webby looked up at him, face sincere in the way Donald wished most people in the world could be. In the way he wished he himself could be.

Donald wasn’t sure if he could quite believe what she said but the words still touched his heart anyway. Webby truly was such a sweet girl, even if a bit intense. It all of a sudden felt wrong for her to call Scrooge ‘Uncle Scrooge’ when he was still plain old Donald.

“Uncle Donald.”

“What?”

Donald coughed hoping to disguise the sudden influx of embarrassment and affection he felt for the brighted eyed, pink girl in front of him.

“Call me Uncle Donald, the boys think of you as their sister at this point, and I consider you to be part of the family.”

Donald nervously looked at Webby, unsure if he said anything wrong when all Webby did was stare back at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

“Um, are you o-”

“OH MY GOSH!”

Donald jumped at the sudden volume change though Webby didn’t seem to notice in her excited haze as she jumped around the kitchen.

“This is AMAZING, another confirmation from a McDuck member! I got to update my Mcduck Board-” Mcduck Board? “-oh my gosh I need more yarn!”

Webby sprinted out of the kitchen and Donald shook his head in fond amusement before glancing at the clock and groaning when he realized he would have to skip breakfast if he wanted to be on time to work. However, just as he was beginning to turn around to head out, he felt a pair of small arms wrap around him and he glanced back to see Webby’s head buried in his shirt

“Thank you Uncle Donald.” she said softly into his back before racing out of the room once more.

Donald stood there for a second, staring at the place where Webby just was, before breaking out into a huge grin and beginning his trek to his car with a pep in his step.

‘I think today will be a good day!’ he thought cheerly.

He took another step, hand reaching for the doorknob out the back way when his feet caught on something and he slipped once more, tumbling to the ground. He groaned as he sat up and felt for whatever tripped him.

It was a piece of glass.

‘Or, maybe not.’

Chapter Text

‘Well, it could be worse’ Donald thought as he surveyed the damage to the Sunchaser which at that moment was plunged deep into a snowy mountain.

He originally hadn’t been planning to go on this latest adventure, it had finally been his day off and by some stroke of luck he didn’t have any extra errands to run.

But Donald had always been lady luck’s favorite chew toy and as soon as he laid his back on his hammock he was surrounded by four pairs of eyes, all with various amounts of pleading in them.

“No.” Donald mumbled before they could say anything, closing his eyes and leaning further back.

“Awwwww come on Uncle Donald! It’s been forever since you came with us on an adventure.” whined Louie as he crawled into the hammock effectively elbowing Donald in the stomach before settling down on his side.

“It’s my day off!”

“According to page 249 in the Woodchuck guide book going on trips can help lower stress levels and allows you to see other cultures which brings a richness into your life!” Huey chimed in as he took a more gentle approach and climbed slowly into the hammock, resting against Donald’s legs.

“I already told you boys, no!”

“But it’s so boorrring here, don’t you want to have fun?” Dewey asked as he took a running start and hopped onto Donald making his bones give an angry pop.

“It’s plenty fine here! I can read a book or sleep or-“

“Please Uncle Donald?”

Donald looked over Dewey’s back and Huey’s head to see Webby at his feet, peeking over and giving him puppy dog eyes.

Soon the triplet’s followed.

Donald has taken on monsters, criminals, and Uncle Scrooge one time when he accidentally spilled orange juice on some ancient map, but still, he found himself crashed on an uncharted Island in the middle of the Arctic Ocean in what SHOULD have been his day off. Man had he gone soft.

“Don’t worry Mr. McD, I’m sure I can get the plane out of the mountains before you get back!” Donald heard Launchpad chirp cheerfully as Donald made the snowy trek to where the rest of the group was.

Scrooge was standing next to Launchpad, eyes on the damage with a look more exasperated than truly worried on his face, although his expression seemed to turn into one of impatience as he glanced up at the sky.

“I do nae care if you only get half of it out by the end of this week!” Scrooge replied back curtly, pulling down his silk hat and gripping his cane.

“We’re losing sunlight and the ol’ lost Jewel of Snowshulls can only be found once a year once the sun hits the special entrance just right. I’m not waiting another year to get this jewel! We’ll just have to worry about it once we get back.”

Scrooge turned towards the kids, who up till now had been trying to outdo each other in snow cartwheeling, and clapped his hands together, an excited, almost crazed, smile on his face.

“Now, come along kids, we are off! To the underground tunnels of Snowshulls!” Scrooge bellowed as he pumped his fist in the air, the children soon following in his cheers.

“Yay! Adventure!”

“Discovery!”

“Jewels!”

“Icy horrific tunnels!”

The boys and Scrooge paused in their cheers and turned to Webby who chuckled sheepishly and rubbed her head.

“I just wanted to say something.”

Donald also wanted to say something at that moment as he watched their dramatic declarations place. Something along the lines of ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE COULD LEAVE IN ONE WEEK?!’

He glanced back at the plane, which was deeply entrenched in the frosty mountain sides. He was about half-sure Scrooge had exaggerated about the time it would take Launchpad to get the plane out but he didn’t want to risk the chance of staying on this miserably cold island more than he had to. He also thought to himself, as he eyed Launchpad skeptically who was looking at the crashed plane was a dopey smile on his face, didn’t quite trust the ‘pilot’s’ skill to solve the issue

Not to mention the sound of hiking through icy cold caves just to then have to fight whatever snowy monster was most likely guarding the jewel did not sound that fun after having to see his life flash before his eyes as their plane crashed into a snowy mountain.

“If it’s alright Uncle Scrooge, I’m gonna stay with Launchpad for this one and help him get the plane out so we can actually leave this place eventually.” Donald said as he slowly backed away from the group, waiting for the inevitable out-cry.

“But Uncle Donald!”

There it was.

“What about having fun and living on the edge!”

“Going and charting the unknown into a color coordinated chart!”

“Money!”

“The apathetic, cruelness of nature!”

“Okay we have got to stop letting you go last Webby.”

Donald opened his mouth to offer some sort or rebuttal when he heard a crack of snow and turned to see Scrooge in his classic ‘post cane put down’ pose glaring the children into silence before looking at Donald.

Maybe Scrooge could see the eye bags under Donald’s eyes from working multiple shifts at two jobs for over three months. Maybe he noticed the way Donald slouched, worn from life and two gusts of winds away from falling over. Maybe he caught Donald’s pleading eyes and furrowed brows. Or maybe he just noticed the ever setting sun right above Donald’s head and figured it wasn’t worth losing time convincing him to go.

Either way Scrooge cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back as he said,

“Donald’s right kids, we need the plane to be out o’ else we’ll be stuck in this blasted cold weather, we’ll leave him to be-“

“But-“

“No buts, we’ve already wasted more time then I would have liked, move along!” Scrooge scolded as he ushered the groaning and moaning children away, leaving Donald alone with Launchpad and the crashed ship.

Donald let out a sigh of relief.

Well, at least he could sort of relax now.

A loud crack sounded out and he spun around to see the wing of the plane fall and crash into a heap on the ground. Launchpad whistled as he walked up beside Donald.

“Wow! Hope we didn’t need that.”

Donald facepalmed.

……..

So, after digging the wing out of the snow and reattaching it to the plane which took much longer then it should have given the fact Donald fell into the snow roughly thirteen times, he and Launchpad set out to get the plane out of the mountainside.

“Okay, you can start now!” Donald called out from on top of the plane. Launchpad was currently at the control panel, ready to back out, although Donald would have preferred almost anyone else to be the one to do it.

“You got it Mr. D!”

Donald readied himself to go backwards but fell forwards instead as the plane drove further into the rocks.

“Whoops, wrong way!” He heard Launchpad cry out and Donald was sent flying back as the plane began to reverse out of the mountain. He could hear the wheels underneath hurriedly work against ground, and Donald hoped that they had dug out enough snow around it for the wheels to gain traction.

For what felt like days, most likely only an hour and a half, Donald spent the time trying (more like failing) to direct Launchpad, by the end earning himself a new array of bruises from the numerous times Launchpad caught him off guard by going in the wrong direction.

After they had gotten the plane for the most part free, losing some pieces in the process, Donald collapsed into one of the seats on the plane officially ready for this ‘adventure’ to be over.

‘I guess I have no one to blame but myself though, for choosing to stay behind.’ He thought grumpily as he laid an arm over his eyes.

First the presents for the boys and now this. He always knew he was a screw up, but life had just seemed to enjoy hammering that in lately.

“No need to be worried Mr. D,” assured Launchpad as he made his way to where Donald was, mistaking Donald’s tired posture for one of worry, “I’m sure the plane will fly, I once crashed a plane into the ocean and though it took a week to get all of the fish out, I still got us to safety!”

Donald couldn’t even muster a reply, merely grunting in acknowledgment before the plane cabin turned quiet once more. He enjoyed the few moments of relative silence before he heard a shuffle and Launchpad say,

“Uhhhh, so who’s your favorite Darkwing Duck character?”

Donald silently debated with himself on if he should pretend to be asleep, but eventually his stupid sympathy won out and he asked with a tired sigh,

“What’s Darkwing Duck?”

Behind his covered eyes Donald heard a sudden crash and he quickly leapt to his feet and squatted into a fighting stance only to see Launchpad sprawled on the ground, eyes wide.

“You-you’ve never heard of the greatest TV show of all time starring Jim Starling in a three seasoned action packed crime thriller!” Launchpad exclaimed as he scrambled up and clutched onto Donald’s shoulders, lifting him off the ground.

Donald blinked slowly trying to unmuddle his brain, finally realizing the type of situation he got himself into.

“Uhhh no?”

Donald was immediately dropped as the larger bird ran to the front of the plane. Donald groaned, sitting up as he felt the headache he’d been nursing for an hour grow at the sudden impact.

Launchpad’s voice echoed throughout the plane as sounds of crashing came from the front, “Now don’t you worry Mr. D, I always make sure to have spare DVD copies wherever I go! You always gotta think ahead. I put them in a red box I found in the plane that said aid on it, I mean after I took everything out of it of course!”

Before Donald had time to process the horror of that statement a TV came down from the top (they had a TV?) and through the television came a duck wearing a purple cape and comically large hat.

“So it’s an action super hero show?” Donald asked as the supposed superhero battled against a water dog thing.

“It’s not just a super hero show it’s THE super hero show, here Darkwing is fighting the Liquidator this totally evil guy that got pushed into contaminated water so now he can turn into-“

“Let me guess, water?”

“Yeah! How did you know?”

Donald sighed as he turned his attention back onto the screen where he saw Darkwing jump a dangerous 20 feet to the ground and land with only a slight stumble. If Donald tried that he’d probably get hit by a low flying plane on the way down.

“Yeah me and my best bud Dewy watch this all the time, though it has led to some accidents when we watch it on the road…..”

Donald sat and stared at the screen, watching the brightly live action show flicker across the screen.

‘…best bud’

He sat up and eyed Launchpad who took no notice as he was enraptured with the TV show. Pushing aside the fact a grown man’s best friend was a child (though for Launchpad it was fitting) he may offer insight into Dewey that Donald didn’t have.

Webby was sweet, truly, but she had this assurance in him that Donald knew he couldn’t uphold, and if she couldn’t help him with gifts for the children maybe Launchpad could.

“So, Launchpad, you go with Uncle Scrooge and the kids on their adventures a lot right?”

Donald leaned back into his seat hoping for a casual tone in his voice but sounding more like a choking seal. He didn’t want to risk Launchpad finding out he was scoping him out to find a gift for Dewey, he had a feeling he was a duck who couldn’t hold a secret even if it was glued to him.

“Of course! I’m the best pilot around! They need someone like me to fly them to where they go.”

Launchpad lifted out his arms gesturing to the plane as if to emphasize his point, in doing so he hit his hand against the wall behind them and Donald heard a crash as somewhere in the airplane something broke.

Launchpad looked out for a moment before shrugging.

“That’s probably fine.”

Donald cleared his throat, this was his chance. “Well, um, yes, that's true? True. Definitely, and on said trips did Dewey- andlouieandHewey- happen to see anything they liked, I just want to know to see, if um, they still enjoy these trips so much.”

Nailed it.

Launchpad stared at the screen for a bit, and Donald began wondering if he even heard him when he saw Launchpad tilt his head to the ceiling. Realizing that the look on his face was not one of dazedness from watching the show but of concentrated thinking Donald stayed silent, not wanting to break the process and have to start all over.

“I’m the terror that lurks in the night -!”

The caped hero on screen started his speech as Launchpad rolled his head and stroked his chin in thought.

Oh what was Donald even expecting, this was from the man who thought you got butter from milking butter cows. Launchpad was nice and all but being a reliable source for parental guidance in gift giving? He shouldn’t have even asked.

“Wellllll, I’m not so sure about Hue and the Lou-mister-“

Lou what?

“Buuuut, Dewey did mention how if he ever got a chance he would want to go back to the Forgotten island to gain the conch of singing to post about it online!”

Donald blinked, that was a lot more than he expected to get. Like, he was almost suspicious at how easy it was to get that information. Nothing was easy in life. At least not for him.

Donald, not wanting to lose this opportunity, hurriedly asked, “And is the conch lost forever? Was it suddenly thrown off a cliff? Did the island get submerged underwater in the end? Is it a one time thing that can only be accessed every three hundred years?”

“Uh no, nope nah, yes but by bug years.”

Donald pulled himself away from his intense gaze on Launchpad and stared ahead at the screen instead, where Darkwing was pulling one over on the bad guy, right in the nick of time.

Maybe he can actually do this. He can get the gift for Dewey by going to whateveritwascalled island, even if it burns a few tail feathers. And maybe he could even find something for Hewey and Louie as well. He felt hope spur in his chest, he didn’t feel it too often, there wasn’t much room for hope in between all the accidents in his life. And he desperately didn’t want to let it go.

“Yeah and I’m sure Dewey will love it for his birthday!”

Donald’s head snapped back to Launchpad who was smiling his ever absent smile as he gazed with adoration at the television and its wacky show.

“What?”

“I know right! That stunt was amazing! Can you believe that Jim Starling did all his own stunts!”

“Really? That’s pretty cool actually…. but never mind that, what did you say about the birthday?”

“Well that’s why you're asking right? For Dewey’s birthday? I never forget a birthday, I’m getting him a blue shirt, he seems to love those!”

Donald gaped for a moment before silently closing his mouth and looking forward again, he guessed he underestimated Launchpad, maybe another reason Scrooge hired him after all besides his cheerfulness and cheapness. Donald felt a smile creep up his face.

“Thank you Launchpad.”

“No problemo, all in a days- OH MY GOSH, I forgot that I put in the special edition disk with the director’s extended commentary, it’s three hours and it’s ALL AMAZING you’ll LOVE this!”

Launchpad leaned forward bouncing in his chair as Donald rolled his eyes with affection. Well spending hours watching director’s commentary to a show he’s only halfway watched wants exactly how he wanted to spend his day, but he supposed it could be worse.

He snuggled down into his seat prepared to eventually doze off out of boredom when Launchpad's voice broke through the relative silence.

“But you know Mr. D, like the one time I was worried because I crashed into a taco stand and ended up getting free tacos. Something may seem rough at first but you can have a good thing in the end! So don’t worry so much about what you're gonna Dewey for his birthday, just have fun!”

People were really telling him that a lot lately. Well the thing about not worrying, not the taco stand.

Still even if Donald still couldn’t believe it he also couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his beak, and he especially couldn’t help the words that popped out of his mouth that he knew he would regret when he was in a less chipper mood.

“You know, I don’t get to watch many shows, maybe from time to time I could stop by and watch some Darkwing with you?”

A large gasp filled the cabin as Launchpad turned slowly to face Donald. Eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I mean of course only when I’m free and it’s not to late or-“

“That. Would. Be. So. COOL. We can start all over again! And then watch the commentary. Then the bloopers. Then we can watch it again! And you can read my story for the unfinished ending! And-“ Launchpad continued on with a seemingly endless list of what they could do, but all Donald did was sink back into his seat and watch as the man grew more and more excited

Launchpad was a strange person.

With maybe an unhealthy obsession with a TV show that ended over a decade ago. No doubt about that. But Donald could now also say he was a good person too. And as his family crashed back into the plane unharmed and ready to give him the rundown of what happened, he was suddenly glad he went on this trip.

Even if in the end he was launched out of the window when Launchpad crashed the landing when they arrived into Duckburg. But hey, at least the director's commentary ended up being kinda interesting.

Chapter Text

‘Well I think that’s about 64 now.’ Donald thought as he gazed into the bright blue sky from his spot on a park bench.

Though no one was currently outside at the moment besides Donald it most certainly wasn’t because of the weather. It was a lovely day, warm with a breeze and sunny in a way that made you feel the rays in your very bones. And maybe if he was another person or if he just had a bit less of a chaotic life Donald would be strolling along the winding park pathway and taking in the nice day. But instead he sat gloomily on the bench thinking back onto the terrible events of the day that led to him being promptly fired from his 64th job.

It wasn’t a very good job. Hard work, long hours, little pay. But he had survived jobs like that countless times before and he would do it again. Having to rely on Scrooge for electricity and water was daunting enough, but Donald would rather let his boat sink than to be labeled a ‘mooch’, so he continued with his grueling jobs and long hours. Plus it meant he had an excuse to avoid having to be in the same room for long with his uncle.

It was a dock job, loading, unloading, driving forklifts and cranes. Lifting numerous boxes from boats to trucks was killer on his back, but was repetitive enough that he could work for hours zoned out before his shift ended.

On this particular day he was helping to load some glassware. He should have seen it coming. But in all fairness he had worked the job for a decent amount of time, and his optimism -which refused to die- hoisted in him the idea that he could somehow not screw up everything.

It strangely wasn’t in carrying the boxes where things went wrong but in walking away from the truck. Donald had loaded the last box when he heard someone call out to him. He turned to see Larry, nice guy, has two kids, waving to him. Donald vaguely registered the sound of the roll up truck door being closed as he waved back at him. Donald sighed, knowing that his shift lasted four more hours and walked forward.

Or at least he tried to.

He couldn’t move, every step was met with resistance. He tried lunge forward but face planted instead, groaning he looked up, rubbing his face to see Larry in the distance, watching Donald with a confused expression and pointing to his back. Donald looked behind him and saw that his uniform coat was caught in the truck.

He grabbed it and began pulling but it wouldn’t budge to his avail. He was about ready to throw out some words that he definitely couldn’t say around his nephews when he heard the truck start up and gas fumes spewed into his face from the exhaust pipes.

Panicking now that the car was going to drive off and drag him behind Donald began using his feet to try and pull on his jacket, he turned to look at Larry, hoping he was rushing to him to help but found him standing instead with a popcorn bucket that seemly appeared out of no where watching with interest at Donald’s distress.

So much for being a nice guy.

The truck began moving and Donald hurriedly hopped onto the thin backing the edge of the truck had. After scrambling for a couple of minutes and squawking like a mad man, leading to people on the dock pointing and staring, Donald freed his coat, he whooped in triumph and staggered against the door.

Which opened.

And unleashed the boxes upon boxes of fragile glassware imported hundreds of miles from another country.

Donald only left with minor injuries having been pushed out of the way by a giant box which sent him flying into the nearby pillow delivery. However the mess was chaotic, glassware lined the dock up and down and when Donald’s boss came in a horrified rush, demanding to know why thousands of dollars of glass was sitting broken on the road all fingers pointing to the now fuming duck who was yelling as he tried to disentangle himself from the mass of pillows and feathers on top of him.

“Sorry bud, I heard about you being fired, here’s a going away gift if it means anything.” Is what Larry said as Donald slowly trudged towards the parking lot, back to his run down Sudan and the knowledge of a job done terribly. Larry handed Donald a container of popcorn and waved him goodbye as he slipped off back to doing whatever average lucked people like Larry did. A moment later a pigeon swooped down and stole the popcorn container.

And now here he was, two hours later and stuck on a park bench. He couldn’t go home, not with another failure under his belt. Not when he knew that he would go back to an empty house.

Donald sighed as he slowly got up. Maybe he couldn’t go home but sitting and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t helping much.

He began walking down the park pathway trying and failing to enjoy the scenery when an ice cream truck caught his eye and he found himself trudging over to it.

“At least I could have some ice cream to cheer myself up.” Donald mumbled to himself.

“Excuse me!” He called out as he walked up to the truck. The dog man behind the counter slowly turned around and Donald was about to tell him he wanted a scoop of rum raisin (which often got him marked as old by his nephews) when he saw the vendor's face and his heart dropped.

As far as Donald could remember since he began living with his Uncle the Beagle boys had been after Scrooge’s fortune. Although he wasn’t always there when they showed up to cause trouble he had been in enough scuffles with them to recognize their masked face anywhere. And one was currently staring back at him poorly disguised under a fake mustache.

“Uhhh, I am just a normal ice cream man, what ice cream will you…uh partake in?”

The particular Beagle boy that was talking to him could barely fit in the truck, his shoulders hunched over and head touching the ceiling.

“Tell him we’re closed!” came an angry whisper and Donald quickly glanced further inside to see a short and a thin Beagle boy also wearing fake mustaches with the former sporting an angry look on his face.

“But that’s not what an ice cream man would do!”, came the whispered reply of the man in front of him. Donald cringed at the obviousness of their conversation and considered what to do.

He had no idea what they were planning and he could always walk away. It didn’t seem like they recognized him probably because he was still wearing his work uniform.

Though he also knew that no matter what they might be doing it was most likely, well, bad and Donald should at least put in an effort to stop it.

Before he could decide on the matter he heard a crash and foot steps follow as the shortest of the men walked forward.

“Why did I think I could trust you up front Bouncer, do I have to do everything myself?! Sir we are clo- hey wait! Aren’t you McDuck's nephew?”

It seemed the shorter of the three was also the smartest of them as he narrowed his eyes at Donald as recognition crossed over his face.

Donald shrunk into his uniform and began taking steps back, quickly shaking his head as the larger Beagle Boy began getting out of the truck,

“No I’m not!”

Donald tried to run as he saw a large hand reach out for him but soon enough he felt it close over his arm and lift him into the air. For Pete’s sake he had just wanted ice cream!

“You’re right Bigtime I recognize that scratchy voice from Funso’s Fun Zone,”said who Donald assumed must be Bouncer.

“Yup.” The last of the Beagle boys agreed as he went to stand beside Bigtime.

Donald remembered the panic that filled him when he got the note that the kids were being held ransom by the Beagle boys. He had always done his best to protect the kids from any harm, first aid kits, life vests, and long lectures on why you should not see if you can balance on all the books in the house had been normal on the life boat. When they moved in with Scrooge Donald knew that the simple time of the life boat was gone but he had hoped that Scrooge’s experience was enough to keep them relatively safe as it kept Donald safe when he adventured with him.

Though it didn’t keep-

Don’t think about her.

When he saw the note all he felt was terror and rage at the idea of what they may be doing to his nephews. Thankfully as with any other danger the McDuck family has been through the kids had ended up not only escaping but pulling one over on the Beagle boys as well leading to a happy reunion and another adventure concluded.

Still as he stared at the Beagle boys who seemed to be having an intense conversation as Bouncer held Donald in the air, Donald could feel his anger start to come back as he remembered just what these people did to his children. His anger management therapist had always said that he tended to get overly emotional when it came to family but Donald couldn’t help it, especially if the people who hurt his family were currently standing in front of him and discussing how to use their captive.

“We don’t need to rob the bank anymore, if we just keep him and send Scrooge a note we’ll be rich in no time!”

“Didn’t we try that before and it didn’t, you know, work?”

“Yup.”

“Would you guys shut up! This is a way to make Ma proud!”

“But Ma specifically said we had to be on look out from the ice cream truck and give the signal when- ow!”

Bouncer yelped and quickly dropped Donald as Donald’s beak sank into his arm.

Dropping to the ground the duck landed on his feet and quickly spit out the taste of sweat from his mouth as he got into a fighting position.

“Why you no good…!” He ran forward towards the skinny Beagle boy whose look of boredom quickly changed to one of fear as Donald socked him in the jaw.

“Oh damnnabit grab him Bouncer!”

The larger Beagle boy reached for Donald, who out of practiced ease slipped under his legs and made a go for Bigtime who stood gawking like a deer in headlights.

But just as he was about to grab onto Bigtime's shirt he felt his own collar begin to choke him as he was once again lifted into the air by his collar.

Donald yelled uselessly as he tried to claw at the bigger man’s arm or at the very least bite him again, however Bouncer seemed to have learned his lesson and had Donald turned away from him and kept as far as his arm could reach.

“He’s a bit feral ain’t he, what should we do with him,” asked Bouncer as he turned to Bigtime who appeared to be trying his best to not look like moments ago he was cowering at the raging bird.

“Well obviously we have to-” Bigtime seemed to gain an idea mid sentence as he paused and a huge terrible smile spread across his face.

“You know, I was always curious about how well ducks fly.”

The skinniest of the Beagle boys got off from his position on the ground, not smiling but having the same wicked look in his eyes.

“Me too.”

Donald began to form the connections in his head and his anger merged with fear as he struggled against the hold he was in. He could hear the voice of his Uncle in his ear as he imagined what the rich geezer would say if he saw him in his current situation.

“As soon as you saw the Beagle boys you should have ran and made a plan. Work smarter not harder laddie.”

Though before Donald could get angry at the imaginary Scrooge in his head (what did he know about planning Mr. Loses-his-head-at-the-sight-of-a -single- coin) everything around him began to spin.

Or well everything was still and it was him that was spinning.

“This will certainly lift your spirits!” Bigtime chuckled as Donald felt the grip on his clothes lift and he was shooting through the air, watching the Beagle boys and their smug grins grow smaller by the second from where they stood on the ground.

‘After this, no more ice cream for me’ Donald thought hysterically as he shot through the air further and further from the safety of the ground.

Though his terror was already high (no pun intended) he felt it go to its breaking point as his descent upwards took a turn and he found himself plummeting back to the ground.

He could always aim for a tree but even then he was most likely gonna walk away- or he supposed crawl away- with all his bones broken and the Beagle boys standing in front of him triumphantly.

With seemingly no way out Donald covered his face, not wanting to watch as his demise came closer to him.

He all of a sudden felt a tug and soon enough metal arms wrapped around his waist and he was shooting up again into the air once more.

“Fear not fearful citizen for Gizmoduck is here!” Donald heard a voice call out and he uncovered his face to see Gizmoduck holding him as they flew through the air.

Right then and there Donald could have kissed Lady Luck despite her previous terrors against him. Though he knew soon enough she would make up for it later, probably with a couple of bruises.

Making one last swoop around the air Gizmoduck made his way to the ground and set Donald down gently.

“Now if you excuse me Don- um I mean good sir who I don’t know I must round up those Beagle hooligans!” Gizmoduck declared as he raced off towards the direction of the Beagle boys who appeared to have caught sight of the superhero wonder and were currently scrambling to get into their ice cream truck and drive off.

Donald stood there for a moment letting the adrenaline slowly ease out of him as his brain processed that he was, in fact, no longer falling to his death.

“It was a bit weird though how he seemed to know me,” Donald mused vaguely as he watched Gizmoduck hoist the Beagle boys out of the truck and wrap them in some sort of rope one could only assume he got from inside his suit.

Seemingly satisfied with his knot tying skills and the angry and bitter expressions on the criminals faces Gizmoduck made his way back to Donald.
He stumbled back just as Gizmoduck halted on his wheel a foot away from him.

The hero cleared his through and bent down a bit to be more on eye level, “I am so sorry dear citizen you had to get caught up in that, but fear not! They will be taken to a local police station where-“

“Um, actually I think they got away.”

Gizmoduck’s metal head quickly whipped around to where Donald was pointing. There, with the ropes cut, was an empty spot where the Beagle boys were held only a moment before.

“Aw man not again,” said Gizmoduck as he lifted up into the air and looked around for where the criminals might have run off to.

‘Wait a second-‘ Donald thought as the metal man slowly descended to the ground. Why was that voice so familiar?

“Well they’re long gone now, man do I need to get better ropes. If I transfer out the flax fibers for a stronger yucca and braid it with some titanium strands from the lab, I can then use a reverse wrap to-“

“Fenton?”

The superhero duck was brought out of his muttering thoughts as his gaze snapped to Donald who was growing more assured that his assumptions were right.

“Fenton!?” The enhanced duck exclaimed, sounding suspiciously similar to said duck he was accused of being, before clearing his throat and making his voice deeper, “No! I mean, who even is Fenton, I mean what type of a name is that! Fen-ton, sounds like a weird guy. No you must have me mistaken,” Gizmoduck rambled, and though Donald couldn’t see his eyes he was almost sure that if he could they would be darting around the park and avoiding Donald’s unimpressed gaze.

“Fenton, I know it’s you.”

“What could you even mean? I don’t look like that Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera at all! Or Fenton whatever his last name is, if it is a man I mean it could be a woman or-“

Donald simply folded his arms and stared down Fenton who, having seen that he lost the battle, stopped his ramblings and sighed.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Dropping the bravado in his speech Fenton’s familiar voice showed through as he slouched over in defeat, which looked almost funny given how the size of the suit made the action look cartoonish.

“Let me just get out of this and we can talk.” Fenton muttered as he wheeled over sadly to a nearby tree.

Donald saw a quick flash of lights and heard a thump, with Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera walking out from behind the tree, one mechanically enhanced suit short of being a superhero but hoisting a new briefcase.

Donald almost felt bad for the duck though in all honesty given how easy it was to figure out Donald wondered how the hero kept his identity a secret for so long.

“You can’t tell anyone who I am.” Fenton said his expression serious as he pulled out a red notebook and began writing something in it. Taking a glance at it and seeing the title, “People who know I’m Gizmoduck” followed by a long list of names and entire groups of people Donald realized that his previous thought had just been answered.

“Doesn’t look like there’s many people left to tell.”

In hindsight it was a poor joke to make given the circumstances but Donald was tired and his humor had taken a weird turn ever since he was ten and was kidnapped by woodland fairies as a sacrifice to their queen. Either way Donald began to regret his decision when Fenton suddenly sprang up from his sad slouch and began to pace and ramble.

“You know I try to hide it, that’s the number one rule of super hero’s after researching through countless comic books but I can’t even do that! How are you supposed to hide a metal supersuit from you next door neighbor when you get back from fighting crime at night, especially from Mrs. Grayson, I swear she has eyes everywhere! One minute your identity is safe and the next thing you know you’re being invited to the neighborhood watch meeting having your neighbors ask if you can use your suit to tow away cars that are parked on street sweeping day! Not to mention the Beagle boys got away, I should have known the rope wouldn’t be strong enough, and last week some robbers got away too as I was trying to talk to the news-“

Yeah Fenton was definitely spiraling out. He should probably stop him.

“Fenton.”

“I mean dios mío! Don’t the police know I’m on there side-“

“Fenton.”

“And that, ese hombre terrible Mark Beaks! I mean-¿Puede ser más molesto? Todo lo que hago es mucho más difícil cuando tienes a un rico que te quiere y se toma selfies tontas todo el tiempo. Juro que si veo su sonrisa tonta una vez más en la escena del crimen, voy a-”

“FENTON!”

After seeing the switch to Spanish and catching bits and pieces from what Panchito taught him Donald realized that Fenton was too deep into his own frustrations to listen to Donald. He quickly walked forward and grabbed onto the younger ducks shoulders to steady him as his feet took a bit of time to catch up and he ended up stumbling a bit in Donald’s grip.

Fenton stared wide eyed as if just realizing he had been ranting to his boss’s nephew about how much he hates his job though Donald ignored the look and instead looked around for a place for them to sit. Having spotted a bench under a tree a couple feet away Donald guided the still stunned Fenton and forced him to sit down with Donald following soon after.

A moment of silence had passed and after glancing at the intern and seeing his fidgeting and nervous expression Donald sighed inwardly at the realization that he would have to be the one to lead the conversations.

“Why don’t you just quit?”

“Uh?” Fenton asked, his eyes finally moving to Donald’s as confusion overrode his fear.

“Well if you don’t like being Gizmoduck why don’t you quit? I mean Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t be happy but he could find someone else, unless you feel pressured to be Gizmoduck by him.” Donald said, sounding a bit bitter despite himself toward the end as he imagined his overbearing uncle and how he managed to rope Donald into countless dangerous and mentally taxing situations.

“Well no it’s not that…” the normally talkative duck seemed to have trouble finding what he wanted to say as his hands scrunched around his already wrinkled tie.

“Not to say that you’re so easily replaceable. I mean you're doing an amazing job! It’s just that if you’re not happy-“

“You see that’s the thing-”

The speechless duck had finally seemed to have found his words as he turned to look up at Donald, expression grim.

“I’m not that good at my job.”

Donald kept silent as he waited patiently for Fenton to continue on.

“I try, I really do! I’ve done tons of research on vigilantes and the psychology of criminals and the justice system but…I just can’t seem to get it right. Like right now! What type of hero rants to a civilian about how hard their life is!” Fenton hunched over on the bench, his head in his hands.

“I keep letting criminals loose and accidentally destroying property, I just seem to cause more trouble than the people I’m trying to stop. I can’t be Gizmoduck all I can be is boring, lame Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.”

Fenton turned silent after that as he continued to hold his head in his hands. In all honesty Donald never thought too much about the vigilante other than that his suit was kinda ridiculous, why would you wear a suit with a unicycle attached to it? Though he knew Huey looked up to the duck and he’s heard tales from his family and coworkers about the heroic acts Gizmoduck has done. It was obvious he was a good guy despite all the mistakes he made which is something Donald could relate to strongly.

“Well you know I’m not a superhero…” Donald began to say as he tilted his head.

“…but I know how hard it is to take on a responsibility you don’t feel prepared for. To have lives in your hands.”

Fenton raised his head and looked at Donald who was staring straight ahead at a butterfly who seemed to be circling something on the ground. He thought of the triplets, his nephews, his babies, as little eggs. How it felt like to sit all alone late at night, living off of five cups of coffee and watch the most important things in your life lay soundly in a basket at your feet and feel like you’re failing them every single minute.

“You will mess up. It’s not a maybe but a definite-“ Fenton opened his mouth as if to say something but Donald simply turned to look at him and put his hand up.

“But that doesn’t make you bad at what you do. The effort you put in, it all counts for something. I mean what you’ve done so far is incredible! Sure you may have let the Beagle boys get away but you saved me from, at the very least, a body full of broken bones and a wallet empty from hospital bills.”

Donald remembered some of the things his nephews have told him and quickly added, “Not to mention Dewey told me when you stopped him from falling off a cliff and Huey told me how you saved him that one time at the bank.”

“Did you mess up before those times, sure, but you make sure citizens are safe, that my boys are safe. I can’t promise you that there won’t be those who don’t feel like you're doing enough or that you yourself won’t feel like you aren’t enough but speaking as someone who owes you their life, your Gizmoduck through and through. And don’t discount Fenton, working for one of the most brilliant minds and being able to match him best for beat, it’s something others can only dream about!”

Donald hoped that he was getting his point across (or at the very least that Fenton could even understand what he was saying, it happened too often that he would say something important and people just gave him a confused look) when Fenton stood from the bench.

“You’re right, I do so much! I’m a scientist!” Fenton said as his finger to the sky in triumph. Donald couldn’t help but be swept away by the superhero’s energy and chimed in,

“Yeah!”

“Hero!”

“Yes you are!”

“Adventurerer.”

“No doubt about it!”

“A charismatic guy!”

“Well uh…”

“Unpaid Intern!”

“I don’t know if the unpaid part is something to brag about….”

“And I won’t give up, no I can’t give up. The city of Duckburg needs me! Gyro needs me! Mr. McDuck needs me! I will be the best scientist and superhero this town has ever seen or my name isn’t Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera!”

Fenton held his briefcase like a badge of honor to his chest as a large smile spread crossed his face.

Donald smiled as well at the once again energetic duck from his position on the park bench. He was glad that Fenton was feeling better, the city did need Gizmoduck, crime has gone down, the streets are safer, even with the occasional building crashed into, Fenton was doing good in the world.

Donald on the other hand….

“Uh, are you okay Donald?” Came a worried voice snapping Donald out of his thoughts as he turned to see a concerned look on Fenton’s faces

“You’ve been staring at that tree for a really long time. Did you get hurt in the fight? I should have done first aid on you straight away. You don’t seem to have any external bleeding though we can’t rule out internal. How many fingers am I holding up, no wait! Tell me your full name, and have your eyes follow my-“

“I’m fine,” Donald cut in before he was bombarded with medical questions. Sadly Donald had been in situations more dangerous then almost falling to his death, though Fenton looked unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You’ve done so much for me, there has to be a way to pay it back! Maybe not with actual money I sorta don’t have an income…but anything else I’ll be happy to do!”

Donald doesn’t think that what he did was all that special but before Donald could wave off Fenton’s offer his earlier problems came to mind.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to roll around as Gizmoduck to the docks and get me my job back would you?” Donald also remembered something else that could hopefully help him with his birthday dilemma. “Or at the very least give me an autograph for Huey for his birthday, he won’t stop talking about you. ”

Fenton blinked in surprise at the requests.

“Well for the first one… that is highly unethical….unless of course you were fired for a bad reason.”

“Is accidently breaking thousands of dollars of glass a bad reason?”

“Uhh…”

Donald rubbed a hand over his face and looked up at the sky. Yeah he definitely wasn’t getting another job for a while. He sighed, things almost seemed simple when he was falling to his death.

To be fair it was probably because his only thought was ‘AHHHHH!!!”.

“However-!”

Donald’s gaze snapped to over to Fenton was giving him a cheerful smile

“While I may not be able to help you get your job back, it just so happens that we have a position in our lab as a lab assistant available!”

Donald was expecting something more along the lines of janitor or security guard as his next job, “Don’t you need a degree for that?”

“Maybe you should -considering the dangerous chemicals and explosions- but actually no! Manny is great for a lot of stuff but Gyro is kinda looking for someone that can handle his, um, moods, and that has opposable thumbs.”

While the last statement was a bit odd, Donald felt a bit hopeful as he considered what Fenton was offering, at least until he remembered one slight problem.

“You work for my Uncle Scrooge don’t you?” Donald asked though he already knew the answer.

“Why yes! I know the family thing may be a bit awkward but Mr.McDuck doesn’t come down to the lab all too often so no need to worry so much about that.”

Well there was that at least. For eleven years he had avoided working for any company his uncle owned which was a bit difficult given how Scrooge owned half of Duckberg, probably even more.

Just the thought that his uncle could come waltzing in for some sort of inspection and run into Donald had him avoiding numerous job opportunities.

Though, he has been talking to Scrooge more recently and even living with him (well living in his pool but who cares about details). He wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to work for him, probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“What are the hours?”

Fenton brightened at Donald’s question, seeing that he was interested in the job and quickly said.

“Well it’s from eight am to five pm unless of course we’re working on a big project in which case it’s probably twelve am to eleven pm which may not sound appealing but the lab has pretty good coffee! And the pay is nice too, then again I don’t get paid so I think any pay sounds nice.”

He would have to quit his other job but that didn’t sadden him too much, he never quite had the calling as a mascot at an amusement park. Also it would be a job inside and hopefully not so taxing on his body, and it’s relatively close to the mansion, meaning he could get home quickly if something happens.

Donald had reached a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret, “I’d be happy to work for you guys.”

“You want more fries?” Fenton asked with confusion.

“Oh for the love of- I want the job.”

Fenton, finally understanding, quickly ran over to Donald and began shaking his hand.

“Great! Amazing! This is wonderful! I mean I don’t do the hiring process so you’ll have to do an interview-” he would have to do what?” “-but I know you're going to get it!”

Donald didn’t know if he had the same assurance as Fenton did but at the very least he knew that he had one person on his side.

“As for Huey-” Fenton began to say, could Donald actually manage to solve all his problems in one failed swoop?

“I could give another autograph, though he already has asked for thirteen by now. However I do have this project that I’m working on that he would enjoy! It’s a planner that can predict how certain plans you have for the day will play out. I’m just missing one more element. If you could get it for me then I could finish it lickity split!”

Okay so no autograph, or at the very least no autograph if Donald wants an original gift.

“What element do you need?” Donald asked, maybe it’s something easy like a carrot from the store or a type of rock.

Fenton rubbed the back of his neck before sheepishly saying, “A cursed time goblet from the ruins of an ancient temple in the Sahara Desert.”

Well.

Guess Donald needed to get new clothes that could handle weather in the 120’s range.
.
.
.
.
.
Later on as Gyro walked away from the makeshift interview table they made in the lab, already uninterested, Fenton raced over to Donald, a smile already forming on his beak.

“Congratulations on getting the job Donald! It'll be a pleasure working with you!”

Chapter Text

It started and ended as most of the best things do in life.

With pizza.

It was after one adventure or another (Donald honestly couldn’t keep track of them at that point) and the kids had crashed into the mansion’s living room with a story on the tip of their tongues.

Donald might have gone with them but his new job took a large chunk of his day, which he found he strangely didn’t mind as much as before. He enjoyed talking (or more like listening to) Fenton and trying to make conversation with Manny (who shocked Donald so much the first time he saw him he ended up walking into a wall).

Gyro, though rude, tended to ignore most things when he was focused on a project and so Donald was left about to do tasks like keeping track of samples and organizing lab equipment. When he had first crashed into and broken some test vials Donald was sure that his job at the lab would end after its three day honeymoon phase.

However Gyro only rubbed his face in annoyance and told him to clean it up. Apparently Fenton also had a problem with causing destruction to the lab's property. Meaning, to Donald’s relief, he didn’t have to worry so much of his terrible luck losing him another job.

Despite all this, the best part was that what Fenton had said about Scrooge was right. His uncle hadn’t visited the lab once since Donald started working there. He wasn’t even sure if his uncle knew about his change in jobs as Scrooge never gave so much as a hint at the fact that Donald now worked in the same building as him.

Not that Donald was gonna be the one to bring up that fact.

So it was with a light heart and a tiredness more of a working man then a defeated one that Donald let himself be surrounded by his children and try to follow along to what they had to say as they all spoke at once.

“And so then I was able to-“

“The evil Sandra leapt in and-“

“Uncle Scrooge using the gleam on the-“

“Once again the brave Dewey-”

“But weren’t you stuck in the bag the entire time Dewey?”

“It’s called exaggeration Louie. Makes the story more exciting for the audience.”

“Well it seems more like lying to me.”

“No one asked for your opinion, Hubert.”

As they began to bicker, Donald leaned back into the sofa and let it all soak in.

They were so young and so full of life. Donald couldn’t help but wish that that moment of him being surrounded by the kids, all of them safe and sound would last forever.

That’s never how his life goes however.

A growl suddenly broke through the argument and the children paused for a moment before turning to the green clad duckling that was the cause of the growl.

Louie sported a guilty look for a second before he crossed his arms and gave them a scowl.

“What! Oh sue me we haven’t eaten since breakfast because you guys decided to skip lunch!”

“What?!” Donald squawked as he quickly leaped out of his seat.

“What’s all this racket about?” came a voice and in walked the aforementioned duck. The annoyed look on his face turned to one of confusion as his eyes fell to the kids who were trying to signal a warning to him (not subtly) of Donald’s anger.

“I cannae understand ye when you're all waving nonsense at me.”

“You said you would feed them.”

Scrooge turned his eyes to the now seething duck.

“That I would do what now?”

“You promised me that they would eat.”

Scrooge crossed his arms and scoffed, “Well of course I fed them! They eat when…well they had a bite at….the food at….”

Seeming to now realize his mistake the richest duck in the world threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Well bless me bagpipes, how is it my fault I forgot youngins have to eat so much in a day!”

Donald sighed and pinched his brow.

What has his anger management said to do when he wanted to punt his dear sweet uncle off a cliff?

Breathing out a shaky breath and forcing his fist to uncurl he pointed a finger at his uncle and gave him a level look.

“You’re going to buy them pizza-”

“But-!”

“Or you’ll have to bring the kids back by lunch time whenever you go out for adventures so I can ensure that they ACTUALLY have something to eat.”

For a moment, as Scrooge stood there gaping, Donald was sure that his uncle would continue to press the matter and it would spiral into a full blown argument. However the old duck’s shoulders simply sagged and he looked more like a petulant child than a world class trillionaire.

“Fine,” Scrooge grumbled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a phone that looked like it was on its last legs.

“What kind o’ pizza do you kids want?” Scrooge snapped to the children who had been failing to look like they weren’t fully invested in the conversation that had previously taken place. Their former faux casual postures quickly became excited ones at the prospect of pizza.

“Oh, oh!” Webby exclaimed excitedly as she hopped from foot to foot.

“I want pineapple!”

Louie gave her a disgusted look, “Ew why would you ever get that? I want a normal pepperoni pizza, thank you very much.”

“But pineapple is so tropical!”

“I’ll just have a veggies pizza if that’s alright with you Uncle Scrooge.”

Dewey rolled his eyes,“Ugh why do you have to be so boring Huey. Live life on the edge! I’ll take a pizza with everything on it. Oh! And breadsticks. Also while your at it I want-“

“You're all getting cheese.” Scrooge cut in, walking out of the living room as he began typing in the pizza place’s number.

Disappointed grumbles followed suit, which only increased when Donald added, “Also all of you need to go and wash up.” He eyed them, taking in the dirt on their clothes and the muck in their feathers.

Was that a wad of bubblegum stuck to Huey’s hat?

Donald didn’t even want to know.

“But Uncle-!”

“No buts! Or else we’re having an early preening day,” Donald warned leaning in.

“Tonight.”

The kids gulped at the threat -except for Webby who looked more confused than anything else- and bowed their heads.

“Yes Uncle Donald,” they said glumly as they filed upstairs, dragging their feet and pouting.

Before Donald could take a proper breather he heard a crash followed by angry yelling in the kitchen,

“What do you mean delivery fee!?”

Donald groaned as he forced his feet to move and open the door to the kitchen, only to see a very angry trillionaire pacing as he argued on the phone

“I’m already paying for the blasted pizzas to be made now ye’ expect me to pay for you to drive them a measly couple of blocks! Well if that’s the case then forget-,” before Scrooge could angrily hang up the phone Donald rushed over and snatched it out of his hand.

“What do you think you're doing?” hissed Donald as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“I’m sorry about that, guess it’s what I get for having my old uncle make the call,” he apologized as he glared at said uncle who looked as if he very much disagreed with that statement.

“I’m nae paying to be scammed by some overcharging obstinate miscreants!”

Donald cleared his throat and he turned his back on his uncle. Hoping the people on the other end could understand him, he asked, “How much is the delivery fee? I’ll just pay for it since my uncle is unable to do so.”

Despite him being the richest duck in the world.

“Well,” said the voice of a guy who sounded like he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to be having this type of argument nine o'clock at night, “For two boxes of cheese pizza that’ll be 15.98 and with the delivery fee it’ll be 39.40 including tax.”

Donald blinked.

Well. He may have to admit he agreed with his uncle on this one because Holy Mackrel was that an overpriced delivery fee if he ever saw one. Seriously, it was over double the price just to drive the pizza a couple of blocks, they were already paying them to make the pizzas and- oh god he was starting to sound like his uncle.

Rethinking what he was about to say, Donald shifted the phone to his other ear, “And if we came to pick it up ourselves?”

“Just the standard 17.40 which includes tax.”

“Great, then can we also order some breadsticks and just pick it up there?”

“Sure thing, the total comes to 19.56 and who is this out to.”

“Scrooge McDuck.”

“Great. Thank you and remember you’re always royalty when you eat at Sir Feather’s Pizza Palace,” said the deadpan voice of the minimum wage worker as they promptly hung up.

“I’m not paying Launchpad extra just to go out and pick up pizza,” Scrooge said as he grabbed his phone back from Donald.

“I’m not asking you to,” Donald said as he walked out of the kitchen and back to the living room. He picked up his jacket, and after assuring that his keys were his pocket began making his way to the front door.

“What do you think yer doing?” His uncle asked as he followed after.

“Obviously since I have to be the responsible one, I’ll just go pick up the pizza myself so that way the kids don’t starve to death.”

“I’m not trying to starve them!”

Donald stopped in his march and gave Scrooge a tired look. He was sick of arguing all the time.

“Fine you're not trying to starve them, now can you just give me the money so I can buy them food.”

Whatever anger Scrooge had seemed to evaporate at Donald backing down. Instead an odd look passed over his face.

“Look laddie I…”

If Donald didn’t know any better he would almost say Scrooge looked apologetic as he took off his hat and cleared his throat. However because he knew better he wasn’t at all surprised when his uncle quickly became annoyed once more and put his hat back on aggressively.

“Get back here soon, I don’t wanna be stuck with the kids complaining about being hungry while you're off galavanting who knows where,” Scrooge said as he stuck his hands into his coat and pulled out his wallet handing Donald a twenty dollar bill.

“Don’t worry Scrooge, I’ll make sure your precious time isn’t wasted worrying about family.” Donald said as he stuffed the money into his pockets.

He ignored the feeling of guilt in his stomach caused by the hurt look on his uncle’s face as he closed the Mansion’s door behind him and began the walk to his car.

He also ignored the uneasiness he felt at the fact that Scrooge McDuck himself gave him money without a single complaint.

His uncle was probably just tired.

(Though Scrooge never made a mistake when it came to money)
.
.
.
.
.
.
“What do you mean you didn’t even make the pizza?!”

After looking it up on his GPS Donald was pleasantly surprised to see that the place wasn’t that far away. It was ten blocks down, almost a straight shot from the mansion. It should have been an easy ten minute drive there, get the food and an easy ten minute drive back.

Emphasis on ‘should have’.

However halfway through his drive as he mindlessly hummed tunes to himself it had began to rain.

Not the light rain that was really more of a sprinkle, but the type of rain that seemed intent on drowning the world and making Donald’s life much harder. Donald was forced to slow down to a snail's pace as his wipers worked overtime and he tried his hardest to squint out through the blurry car windows and not crash.

And of course to make matters even better, his already fantastic time on the road was extended when he happened to hit Every. Single. Red. Light. Turning the easy ten minute drive into a grueling sixteen minute one.

When he had finally, FINALLY got to the dang pizza place, instead of going inside he was forced to stand out in the rain struggling to get his janky car door open because -like the idiot he was- he forgot his jacket, with the money, in the car.

After falling into the puddles around him several times and getting fully drenched head to tow, Donald managed to get his car door opened, grabbed his coat and trudged dripping wet into the shining doors of ‘Sir Feathers Pizza Palace! The only pizza place that treats you like the Royalty you are!’

Only to find that in all that time they hadn’t even been making the pizza.

“Sorry sir-” said the 100% not sorry fast food worker in front of him, a teenage duck who looked completely disinterested in Donald’s distress.

“We thought it was a prank call, given the fact that the order was placed under the name Scrooge McDuck. We get orders like that three times a week.”

Donald banged his head against the shop's counter. Should he just give up? Run away and live his life as a lone sailor on the open sea.

He sighed and lifted his head. No, he couldn’t do that.

He’d probably get eaten by a shark on the first day.

“Well then,” Donald said, proud of himself for the calmness in his voice that he did not feel, “Now that you know it’s not a scam can you make it?”

“Um,” said the cashier as he rolled his head lazily to one side. “Yeah we probably could.”

Donald gritted his teeth, “Then make it.”

The worker simply shrugged, scribbled something on a piece of paper and walked through some double doors that most likely lead to the shop’s kitchen.

Donald allowed his head to rest once more on the counter, not caring that he was getting rain water all over it. Let someone else clean up the mess, especially after the ordeal he went through.

‘At least the worst of it was over with’ Donald thought to himself.

He didn’t have to deal with any more nuisances until he got home. *Cough* Scrooge *Cough*

Vaugley Donald heard a ding as the Sir Feathers Pizza Palace’s door was opened. He opted to ignore it however and closed his eyes, allowing for a moment of peace as he listened to the sound of sizzling pizza in the distance and smelled the delicious scent of melted cheese and cooked bread.

He almost allowed himself to relax.

“Donnie! Funny running into you here! Looking a bit worse for the wear I see.”

Donald froze at the familiarity of the voice. There was something about it, the smugness, the nickname. A certain mind numbing quality about it that made him want to claw out his eardrums. It almost reminded him of-

No.

It couldn’t be.

He was supposed to be out of the country.

“Hey twenty dollars!”

Oh no.

NononononoNONONONO

Donald whipped around and low and behold, completely dry despite the grueling weather outside and sporting a cocky grin was his cousin Gladstone, picking up from the ground twenty dollars that Donald had somehow missed when he walked into the store.

“Well you seem happy to see me.” Gladstone said smoothly as he cruised over to where Donald was hunched over.

Why? Why was this his life? Why was this his family? Why did this have to be his cousin?

Gladstone threw an arm around Donald and the duck hoped his cousin was getting water soaked through his fancy coat though it didn’t appear so when all the half-goose did was flash a smile.

“What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be off at a five star restaurant enjoying being the 1,000th customer or something,” Donald asked as he tried to pry Gladstone’s arm off of him.

His cousin laughed at Donald’s question as his eyes roamed over the pizzeria’s menu, “Well I was in the area after my third yacht of this month sunk, you know how it is.”

‘I love my family. You don’t punch family. I love my family. You don’t punch family. I love my family you don’t-’

“And I was feeling a bit peckish when I thought, ‘Hey why not visit the fam? I’ve been a bit down lately and they may have some food’. Unfortunately when I was walking to Uncle McDuckle’s place it started to rain. Thankfully a kind man needed someone to take his brand new duckorghini off his hand because he had no more room in his garage and was more than willing to give it to me. While I was driving over I happened to spot this pizza place and was hit with a sudden craving for pizza. To my surprise, who do I find in the very pizza shop I happened to stumble across. My own dear sweet cousin. Talk about being lucky!”

That was.

Well.

To put light, probably one of the most ridiculous stories Donald had ever heard.

Didn’t help that knowing Gladstone it was all true.

“Not to mention with the twenty dollars I just found I can now easily buy myself some pizza.” Gladstone finished as he used his free hand to wave the twenty dollars in Donald’s face.

Okay. That’s it.

Donald ducked out from the goose’s hold and took a couple steps back.

“You know what that’s great. Then you can get your pizza and leave and there’s no need to visit Uncle Scrooge.” Donald said as he crossed his arms and sent his cousin a glare.

Rather than being perturbed Gladstone’s smile only grew as he turned his gaze to Donald and shrugged.

“Nah, it’ll be nice to pop on by. It’s been so long since I’ve last seen our sweet uncle and the mini yous. I’m sure they’ve all missed me.”

“Oh yes they miss you so much. Especially since the last time they saw you we were all almost trapped forever in a casino of doom that you dragged us to.”

For the first time since the conversation began Gladstone looked unsettled as a scowl spread across his normally relaxed face. It was rare that Gladstone was caught off guard by anything, something Donald said must have hit a nerve.

His cousin opened his beak but before he could say anything the doors to the kitchen swung often and out walked the teenager duck (‘Call me Neil!’ his name tag read) carrying two boxes of pizza with a bag of breadsticks on top.

“Sorry for the wait sir, that’ll be 19.56.”

Donald pointedly disregarded his cousin as he walked to the cash register and pulled out the twenty from his pocket.

“Great, thank you,” he curtly said as he handed the money over to Neil.

At least he tried to.

Instead of taking the money from his outstretched hand, the teenager simply gave it a look before saying, “Sorry sir we don’t take cash.”

“You don’t what now?” Donald asked as his fist crushed the bill in his hand.

“We only take card or check.”

“You take checks but you won’t take cash!” Donald exclaimed as he hurriedly checked his pockets before remembering that he dropped his wallet down a gutter two days ago.

He turned back to the employee, hands clasped together, “Won’t you make an exception?”

“Sorry sir-” Donald was getting tired of hearing the guy say that “-but as store policy states we can’t make exceptions when it comes to our no cash policy.”

Next to him Gladstone cleared his throat and Donald almost jumped out of his skin, having forgotten in his distress that his cousin was still lurking about.

“Now I’m sure we can work something out.” Gladstone said as he smirked and leaned on the counter. He tapped a finger to his chin and appeared to be in thought before opening his beak and saying,

“Man I’m so hungry, I wish I had some pizza right about now.”

Donald eyed his cousin not really knowing what he was getting at when suddenly the double doors to the kitchen slammed open. Out rushed a raven sporting a Sir Feather’s uniform and a panicked look on her face.

She stopped next to her teenage coworker and gasped for breath. “Neil! The manager just called, she said that we need to sell three more pizzas in the next hour in order to be the higher selling store in the district.” The raven rung her hands and gulped before saying, “She said she doesn’t care how we do it. Just that it needs to be done or somebody’s getting fired!”

The teenager groaned and looked up at the ceiling, “But how are we suppose to do that, no one ever comes around here this late at night…” he trailed off as his eyes went to Donald and Gladstone, the former looking thoroughly irritated at the turn of events.

Gladstone gave a charming smile, or what Donald assumed must look like a charming smile to others.

“Why isn’t that lucky! It seems like we can both help each other out!” Gladstone exclaimed as he nudged Donald’s shoulder, “Don’t you agree cuz?”

Even when he was helping out Gladstone was a pain in the butt.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Years ago, before his nephews and the Spear of Selene, back when his only dream was to tour the world as a famous musician, it had been just him, Panchito, and José sitting on the floor of his room at McDuck manor and pouring over car magazines.

“Oh this one looks stylish!”

“Yes but it just doesn’t have that quality you know? The one that says, ‘olá lindas senhoras!’”

“Amigo, you know more about life than women right?”

“Yes but it’s depressing to think about such things is it not?”

Donald rolled his eyes at his friends bickering and flipped to the next page in his magazine.

They had previously been practicing for their next gig but had been forced to stop when Uncle Scrooge had barged in, telling them that if they didn’t stop that ‘ridiculous racket’ then he was going to grab all the instruments in the house, travel to the Islands of the Lost and throw it off the Cliff of the Abandoned.

Donald would have thought he was bluffing if he hadn’t already done that with his entire wardrobe of flannels after the fairy incident.

So instead they decided to take a break and look over what type of car they would get when they got their big break and had fans lining the streets of Duckburg to see them perform.

“How about this one?” Donald suggested, turning the magazine to show a bright green low rider with flames painted on the side.

José took one look at it and tsked.

“A bit too tacky for my taste.”

Pachito nodded in agreement.

Donald angrily brought the magazine back to himself.

Tacky?!

He looked down at the image, it wasn’t tacky it was trendy! It was exactly the type of car he was gonna get, stylish, suave, and definitely gonna catch the eye of the ladies! Besides…

“Says the bird who thinks wearing a top hat and carrying around an umbrella will make people think he’s cool and mysterious.”

Donald hurriedly dodged being hit by said umbrella as the usually calm parrot began chasing him around the room, Pachito following suit as he tried to meditate between his friends. Though in the end they all tumbled to the ground laughing as anger faded away at the ridiculousness of the argument.

As he banged his car dashboard, hoping that maybe he just needed physical violence to get the broken down piece of junk to start up, Donald wondered what his past self would think of him if he could see that all dreams of trying to ‘woo the ladies’ with a cool car amounted to absolutely nothing.

“Need some help there Donaldo,” Gladstone called out from his place in front of the pizzerias doors, safely out of the way of the rain. His cousin had been so gracious as to offer to hold onto the pizzas until Donald managed to get the car up and running. Which unfortunately was taking longer than he would have liked.

“No, I’m fine!” Donald yelled back even as his attempts at getting the car to start became more aggressive.

After getting a couple new dents in the dashboard and turning the key so hard that he heard something crack, (great another thing he would need to fix) Donald admitted defeat.

Total wins-
Car: 104
Donald: 2

Getting out of the car Donald slammed the door shut. “You lousy piece of junk.” He said angrily as he kicked the side of the car, regretting his decision immediately as pain filled him and he crumpled to the ground.

“Yeah, sure looks like you got it all handled buddy.” Gladstone said as he walked to where Donald was cradling his foot. Of course, as soon as his cousin took a step out towards Donald’s car the rain had magically stopped allowing Gladstone to walk over without getting a single drop of water on him.

Donald ignored Gladstone’s outstretched hand, instead struggling to his feet and leaning heavily against his useless car.

Gladstone whistled.

“Wow, you go off fighting monsters every other week and all it took to bring you down was a car door.”

Donald sent him an unimpressed glare.

His cousin sighed and ran a hand through his immaculate feathered hair, “Look as much fun as it is to sit here and argue with you cuz, I know you're tired, heck! Even I'm tired! So how about we put aside the banter for now and I’ll drive us over to Uncle Moneybag’s mansion for some pizza. What do you say?”

While the temptation was there to say no, simply just to see the look on Gladstone’s face. But even Donald knew that would be petty.

“Fine.” He gritted out, “Where’s your car at?”

Gladstone immediately adopted his confident smirk once again as he turned to the left and began walking.

“I have no idea.” He said over his shoulder.

“What?” Donald said as he followed after him, barely keeping himself from slipping on the wet cement.

“But I’m sure we’ll find our way.” His cousin called out as he took a sharp turn to the right.

As with everything in Gladstone’s life it all worked out as a short thirty seconds later they stopped in front of a brand new Duckborgini, his cousin easily getting the door to his car open and putting the pizza’s in the back seat.

Begrudgingly, Donald sat up front, and buckled his seat belt.

Taking some time to look at the interior he had to admit the car was nice. Nicer than Donald could ever afford even if he worked overtime everyday for three months. State of the art controls on the dashboard, leather seats that felt like sitting on pillows, and no stains in sight.

Though strangely Donald couldn’t up but think that it also felt a bit empty.

The driver's door opened and Donald quickly put away his thoughts as he turned his head away to glare at the sidewalk outside.

“So, do you like the car?” His cousin asked, forcing Donald to look and see Gladstone spinning the keys in hands with a cocky smile on his face.

“Sure it’s alright.” He said with a shrug, feeling pleased when a brief annoyed look passed over Gladstone’s face.

Seeing that Donald wasn’t going to rise to the bait, Gladstone put the keys into the car which started up with barely more than a hum.

“Aren’t you going to wear a seat belt?” Donald asked as they pulled away from the curb.

“Huh?” Gladstone asked, “What would I need that for?”

Right. Of course. What was Donald thinking?

They drove in silence for a couple minutes, hitting every single green light and speeding easily down the street toward McDuck Manor. In only a short while Donald would be able to shuck his cousin off onto the rest of his family and head off to the boat house to clean all the grime off. He could hopefully grab a couple of leftover pizza slices once his family had all gone off to bed, go to sleep, and wake up the next morning, his cousin gone and out of his hair. At that moment however he grew a bit antsy as he watched the world pass by through the pristinely clean car windows.

It had been ages since he’d been in the same room (technically car) as his cousin and not spent the whole time fuming at him. It was almost awkward to sit and watch his cousin go through the routines of driving, it almost made Gladstone look normal. Except for the fact that he never checked his mirrors.

Hoping to clear away the uncomfortable air Donald cleared his throat before asking, “So why have you been feeling down lately?”

“What?” Gladstone asked as he glanced quickly away from the road. A startled look was on his face as if he had forgotten Donald was even in the car with him.

“Earlier, you said that you were feeling down so you decided to visit us, what happened?”

Gladstone tapped the steering wheel for a moment and shrugged, “This and that. You know how it is.”

Donald narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, I know how it is, but I also don’t pick up winning lottery tickets off the ground every other Tuesday. What are you hiding Gladstone?”

Gladstone chuckled uneasily as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Hey! I never asked, how are the little munchkins! I know their birthday is coming up soon, May something or other right?”

“It’s April 16th,” Donald corrected, “And don’t change the subject.”

They hit another green light but had to slow down a bit as a car turned down onto their street in front of them.

Gladstone growled in annoyance as he quickly passed the other car and sped up.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong!” Gladstone said as his fist began to grip the steering wheel.

“Unlike you my life is hunky dory! It’s perfect! I’m fine! Everything is great!”

“Really because you seem to be freaking out a bit.”

Gladstone bristled, “Maybe you're projecting just a bit, I mean we all know once we get to the mansion everyone will be fawning over me and you’ll be pushed to the sidelines.”

Green Light.

Donald frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gladstone shot Donald a venomous smile, “Well we all know I’m the cool uncle, I’ll find a ticket for some theme park or other and the kids will love me. And you’ll just be the boring one.”

Green light.

Donald hated to admit that Gladstone was right. His cousin was always the favorite uncle. It made Donald want to scream. Everything was just so easy for him!

He probably wasn’t ever worried about his family getting sick of him, or leaving him behind. He probably wasn’t stressing about finding the perfect gifts for the kids, knowing that when the day arrived he would find whatever he needed right outside his door step. He probably never found himself alone, late at night, struggling to do something so simple like get a meal for his family. Donald pushed down the anxiety and hurt he felt well inside him and focused on the anger that was growing instead.

Anger was easier.

“Well given what you did to us last time, consider yourself grateful if Uncle Scrooge doesn’t kick you out the moment he sees you.”

Green light.

Gladstone’s smile was wiped off his face, “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh really,” Donald said bitterly, “No warning, no preparation ahead of time-“

“Does having an immortal entity watching my every move ring a bell?”

Green light.

“You put the kids in danger! You could have trapped them there!”

Green light.

“How was I supposed to know you would bring them!”

Green Light.

“Of course I would bring them! Ever since we moved in with Scrooge, getting them to not come on any trip is like pulling out teeth!”

Green light.

“How was I supposed to know that in the seven months I was trapped in that hell hole you and the old man pulled your head out of your butts and actually talked to each other!”

Red light.

The lights ahead of them changed so quickly Donald swore it never even went to yellow. Gladstone quickly slammed on the breaks and it was only with some miracle that the car managed to stop right before barreling through the intersection.

Gladstone’s beak hit the steering wheel and the car behind them honked angrily at the suddenness of the stop.

Donald however ignored the muttering pains of his agitated cousin and the distant yells of the driver behind them. Focusing instead on what his cousin had just said.

“Great. You go your entire life without hitting any red lights, and then all of a sudden-“

“Gladdy.”

Gladstone paused in rubbing his beak and turned to Donald.

“You were stuck in that casino for seven months?” He asked softly.

It was true that when Donald got the distress text from his cousin he hadn’t seen him in a bit. Donald hadn’t thought much of it, after all his cousin lived a life of constant change and luxury. Every other weekend he was being invited to some far off place to experience the wonders of the world. His phone and phone number constantly changed. Donald had long since grown used to receiving a text message at two am from an unknown number, only to find out it was Gladstone who had just won a raffle to receive the new Waddle phone. He had grown use to having long periods of time where his cousin seemed to drop off the face of the Earth, only to pop up at the houseboat doors sporting a new tan and a very expensive new coat.

Even still Donald felt guilt over the fact that his cousin had been missing for months and the family didn’t even try to look for him. Heck they didn’t even notice.

“Um…” his normally articulate cousin said as he turned his face to the window.

“It was good for the first couple of weeks…you know before the old toast started locking me in my room and feasting off my luck.”

Donald slammed a fist down onto his arm rest causing Gladstone to jump.

How dare he! How DARE that little rat of a toad touch a single hair on his family’s head. What if Gladstone didn’t even tell him the worst of it?

Did he starve him?

Beat him?

“Why that mother-!” Donald began to yell, “When I get my hands on him I’m gonna…I’m gonna-“

Donald’s angry rant sputtered into nonsense as he imagined everything he was going to do if he ever saw that creep again. Let’s just say that guy won’t even be able to think about the word luck without cowering in terror.

“Donald, Donald calm down!” Gladstone said as he put a hand on his shoulder.

“Man if I knew you would get this mad I wouldn’t have even told you! I didn’t think you would care that much.”

This broke through Donald’s triad as he sent his cousin a confused look,

“Well why wouldn’t I care?”

Instead of answering Gladstone turned back to the red light in front of them.

“Man, this light is taking a long time huh?”

Donald sat and stared at his cousin in disbelief. He knew they didn’t exactly get along per se…..

Okay well, more often than not he wanted to slap Gladstone upside the head but his cousin had to know that he still cared about him. Right?

“Look,” Gladstone said as he sagged in his seat, a tired expression on his face. “I’m sorry that I almost got you trapped. I’m not like you and Uncle Scrooge! I don’t got wit or perseverance to get me through problems. All I got is my luck and it wasn’t doing me much good. So I did the only thing I could think of. Still though I never wanted that…. I never expected he would…”

They were illuminated in the red light of the stop light , both looking ashamed and Donald had to wonder when everything had begun to be so complicated. Family’s supposed to stick together, always. Not turn into whatever it was that had kept them apart for seven months. Or ten years.

After what seemed like an eternity the light turned green, somebody should probably message city hall about the absurd length of the stop light. It seemed a bit unnecessary.

Gladstone quickly sat up and began driving forward.

“I’ll make you a deal cuz,” Gladstone said, “I’ll drop you off at the front gate and leave, I won’t even stop to say hello. I’ll be out of your guy’s lives. Promise. You can consider it my apology for everything I did.”

Gladstone flashed Donald his signature grin though it didn’t look as annoying as it did before. It looked a bit sad.

An hour ago Donald would have been internally celebrating his cousin leaving so early from Duckburg. Now, Gladstone’s promise felt sour and the incoming sight of the mansion felt more daunting than like the safe haven he previously thought of it as.

His cousin got on his last nerves. He was arrogant, stuck up, and his luck had gotten Donald into more trouble than he cared to think about. But he also knew Gladstone cared about the family, he tried even in his own irritating way, and the thought of Donald not being pestered by him every once in a while felt sad.

“Pull over.”

“I know you're worried about the family seeing me but don’t you think it’s overkill to stop a couple blocks away just so they don’t see the car.”

“I said pull over.”

Something in his tone must have gotten through to Gladstone because his cousin pulled over without another word of protest.

“You know if you wanna kill me I’m not sure here’s the best spot, with the security cameras you’ll be caught- OOMPH!”

Donald hugged his cousin before he could continue to try and alleviate the situation. He could feel Gladstone tense for a moment before relaxing and wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m sorry we weren’t there for you after.”

Gladstone pulled back and shrugged, quickly wiping his face. His cousin put back on a casual expression obviously trying to hide that he was upset but Donald let it slide. It looked like his cousin needed a bit of normalcy right then.

“It’s alright. I mean I was okay at first you know. I got myself a yacht and was set to go to Europe for some sightseeing. Everything was okay for the first week, then, I don’t know. I got offered to stay at some hotel casino for free, and I couldn’t even step foot in it without thinking of Liu Hai, and then the nightmares began and everywhere started feeling suffocating.” Gladstone sighed.

“Things don’t happen to me. I mean I’m the lucky one! I don’t get hurt, I don’t feel pain, and now I can’t even stay in a locked room for long without wanting to crawl out of my skin!”

Donald didn’t really know what that was like. He was the unlucky one, bruises and cuts have lined his body since he was a little duckling. He’s been kidnapped and beat up and trapped so often that it had become an everyday routine for him at this point. For Gladstone it was different. Not to say everyone should have experiences like Donald but, he hasn’t even had a paper cut. A couple minutes ago was his first time ever experiencing a red light! To go from that type of life to being at the mercy of an all powerful being….

For the first time ever Donald did not want to be in the shoes of his lucky cousin.

“You know,” Donald said, “Huey has been really interested in studying your luck.”

A truck passed by them allowing Donald to see a confused look spread across Gladstone’s face.

“And I’m sure Dewey is more than willing to go on whatever type of crazy journey your luck takes you on.”

Understanding passed over his cousin’s face and soon Gladstone began to smile. Not the smug or confident kind but a genuine one that Donald hasn’t seen since they were kids playing in the mud at their grandmother's farm. Though it left his face as he asked,

“What about the little green one? He seemed pretty upset last I saw him, I never quite got around to apologizing.”

“Gladstone, you know his name is Louie-” at least Donald hoped he knew that, “and it’s never too late to apologize. The family may be angry at each other but we always come back around.” Donald ignored any thoughts of his uncle that came to mind.

“Well, when you say it like that, maybe I could stick around for a bit.” Gladstone restarted the car and began pulling into the street.

“Say, does Scrooge still charge if you want to park your car in the garage?”

Donald rolled his eyes, “I almost forgot about that. Remember when you first brought over a car and he wouldn’t let you park it in the garage without paying five bucks.”

“Oh yeah,” Gladstone said with a laugh, “and in the end it didn’t even matter because a gust of wind just blew my car over the gate onto his property anyway! I remember after Della saw that she tried to make the same excuse when her car managed to get into the garage.”

Though Donald’s heart stuttered at the mention of his sister he couldn’t help but laugh as he remembered his sister dejectedly handing over Scrooge the five dollars when he saw through her ridiculous lie.

God did he miss her.

The rest of the car ride was smooth sailing, with Donald and Gladstone chattering about all the insane things their uncle tried to charge them for. If there was anything they could find common ground over it would be their mutual annoyance of Scrooge, which they hold with love of course.

It felt nice to have a conversation with his cousin that wasn’t full of jealousy and pettiness. It also felt kinda nice to talk to someone who knew what it was like to grow up like Donald did, with a life full of nonstop chaos and adventure. Speaking of which Donald should probably call Fethry soon, it’s been awhile since he last talked to his cousin and he missed him, even if he did talk way too much about marine life for Donald’s taste.

“But in all seriousness,” Gladstone said as the gates to the McDuck manor swung open, “I still feel like I need to make it up to Louie somehow, I just don’t know what to do.”

Gladstone parked the car and took a step out. Donald was about to follow suit when he heard a yelp and a crash. Quickly getting out of the car Donald raced around to the side only to see his cousin sprawled out on the ground.

“Today is not your day is it?” Donald said as he helped Gladstone to his feet.

“Yeah…or maybe it is.” Gladstone said as he looked down at the ground.

Donald followed his cousin’s line of sight. On the ground, and seemingly what had tripped Gladstone, was a piece of mail. It appeared to have been soaked from the rain as the words on the envelope were blurred, although Donald could still make out a large ‘Congratulations!’ on the front.

Picking it up Gladstone opened the envelope and briefly scanned the letter inside before handing it to Donald.

“Congratulations!” The letter read,

“If you are receiving this letter that means you are one out of six chosen from over one million applicants to be part of the hit show, Are you smarter than a Duckling?

As a contestant you will compete using your wits and intelligence for a true test of character as we see if you are indeed as smart as you claim to be! All at a chance of winning,

100,000 dollars!

Enclosed in this envelope is a ticket to the filming studios, we hope to see you there bright and early on April 12th for a screening before an engaging battle of brilliance!

From,

Egg Brothers Studio

(All right reserved)

“You know I think I know someone who would appreciate that money,” Gladstone said from beside Donald.

“Yeah I know, this is the perfect opportunity for you. You were just talking about wanting to say sorry to Louie, I don’t know about the competition aspect but he would appreciate the cash.” Donald said as he folded back up the letter and stuffed it into the envelope.

“Nah I think you should keep it,” Gladstone said as he opened up the car door and grabbed the pizza from the backseat.

“What?” Donald asked.

“Well,” Gladstone said as he shut the car door, “I just feel that I should apologize on my own terms. That just this once I should rely on more than my luck to get him to forgive me.”

His cousin stood awkwardly for a moment before quickly adding, “Also, you know, it may be a nice gift for his birthday, and he’d appreciate it more if it was from you,” his cousin said as he began walking up to the front door.

Gladstone left Donald to stand next to his car, mouth agape’s and still clutching onto the letter in his hands.

“Oh come on,” Gladstone said when he saw Donald wasn’t following along, “I can be nice! Just don’t let anyone know, it would ruin my reputation.”

“Whatever you say, cuz.” Donald said, more fondly than sarcastically despite his best efforts.

Donald walked in through the mansion thirty minutes late, soaking wet, and definitely going to get his car towed, but Donald couldn’t keep down the grin that was on his face.

Not even when Gladstone found twenty dollars right as they walked through the mansion's front doors.
.
.
.
.
.

The arrival of Gladstone in the dining hall was met with confusion from most of the children, irritation from Scrooge and disgruntledness from Louie.

After taking the pizza from his cousin Donald had nudged him towards the upset triplet and Gladstone looked momentarily nervous before slipping back into his easygoing persona and walking over to Louie.

“Hey Green Bean, I see you got a new hair cut. Do you mind if I talk to you for a bit?”

The other kids looked curiously as a reluctant Louie and Gladstone walked to the side for a more private conversation.

Wanting them to have a chance to talk alone Donald cleared his throat and held up the pizza boxes. The kids lost any other thought of his cousin and nephew as they caught sight of the pizza and ran to the table.

He set the boxes down and took a step back as the kids jumped for the pizza and Donald chuckled at the small argument that broke out over who would get some first, before remembering something and walking over to his uncle.

“Gladstone ended up paying for most of it,” Donald said as he reached into his pocket, “So here’s your change back Uncle Scrooge.”

Scrooge took a glance at him, then at the rest of the family before he shook his head, “Consider it payment for the gas, must’ve been extra difficult to drive because of the rain.”

Donald blinked in surprise.

“YOU, Scrooge McDuck, want ME to keep money that I didn’t earn?”

His uncle scoffed as he tilted his hat down.

“Of course you earned it laddie, you know I don’t give hand outs. Just look at all you did for the kids,” Scrooge said before he walked away, going over to join the family for dinner.

For the second time in ten minutes Donald stood dumbfounded and could only stare at the back of his departing uncle. He had a feeling that when Scrooge mentioned what he did for the kids he didn’t just mean pizza. Donald felt warmed at the underhand compliment- even if eight dollars wasn’t exactly the biggest payment (not that he needed any)- and went to go join his family for a well deserved meal.

And later on as he sat watching the now reconciled Louie and Gladstone laughing over one of his cousin’s inane stories, Dewey and Huey arguing over what is different about a ghost compared to a spirit, and Webby listening intently as Scrooge described the time he managed to win a charmed sword in a square dancing contest to the death, Donald couldn’t help but wish that that moment would last forever. All of them happy, safe, and with each other as family should be.

But of course that’s never how his life goes.

Chapter Text

After a week of careful planning, buying supplies, and mapping out what he was going to do, Donald finally figured out how he was going to get each of his nephews gifts.

Whether or not he would come out unscathed both physically and mentally, was a whole other matter.

For Dewey’s gift he had visited Launchpad after work to see if he could fly him next Monday to the home of the Singing Conch located off the coast of Italy. It wasn’t all too hard to find the pilot as he was in the hangar fixing the Sunchaser which was unsurprisingly totaled from whatever last adventure the family had gone on.

He planned on asking Launchpad to watch some of the Darksoar show (or whatever it was called), and then ask him for the favor.

Before Donald could even finish asking his question Launchpad had abandoned his work, rushed down off the plane, grabbed a startled Donald, and dragged him out of the hangar.

“But shouldn’t you finish fixing the plane?”

“Ah, that’s no problem for a professional like me. Just gotta bolt in a couple more things and apply extra strength bubble gum and it should be good by tomorrow afternoon!”

The original plan was to only stay for an hour, though the one hour eventually turned to two, then three, then five. For a show about a guy who decides that an oversized fedora is the perfect accessory to wear while fighting crime it was extremely entertaining.

“Why did Bushroot think growing a wife would be a good idea?” Donald asked, on the edge of the couch cushion as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth and watched said potato wife attack Darkwing before doing the same to her husband.

“Well it probably has to do with his backstory where-”

“Shh, no spoilers”

It took two more episodes before Donald remembered what his main goal of coming was.

As Launchpad paused the show briefly to make more popcorn, Donald had decided that that moment was as good as any other and had asked the pilot if he could fly him to get Dewey's gift.

From his position next to the microwave Launchpad looked confused. Donald realized that he had essentially asked the guy to fly him halfway around the world on their first hangout and had hurriedly added, “I mean of course I can pay you, I don’t have much but-“

The pilot shook his head, “Nah Mr. D, I’m more than happy to fly for a friend! What I’m trying to figure out is if Italy is in Asia or South America?”

Ignoring Launchpad's concerning lack of knowledge when it came to geography, Donald smiled and decided to test his luck a bit further by asking if the pilot could also take him to the Sahara desert on Tuesday or back to the States on Wednesday.

“Sorry no can do. I’m scheduled to fly Mr. McD on those days.”

While it was a bit disappointing, Launchpad was already doing him a great help by taking him to Italy, Donald could figure out later how to get what Fenton needed for Huey's gift, at least the Sahara Desert was semi close to Italy. Getting out of Africa and back to America however…..

‘Well that’s for future me’

Donald glanced at the Darkwing themed clock and winced when he realized it was already 8:32. He hadn’t planned to stay nearly that long and he needed to head off to bed for his shift tomorrow at the lab.

He got up as he said, “It’s beginning to get a bit late, I should probably start going.”

Launchpad’s head snapped up as he gave Donald wide sad eyes, “Aw, you haven’t even gotten to the best part of the episode. Don’t you want to see if Darkwing was able to regain his vision after being blinded by Megavolt?”

Donald knew he was gonna get it back. Darkwing Duck didn’t seem like the type of show that would blind its main character in the first season and have it be a permanent thing.

Still, he didn’t know how he was gonna get it back….

“I suppose I could finish just this one episode.” Donald said as he sat back down. Launchpad gave a whoop as came back with the popcorn and they both settled back in to watch the purple hero’s adventures.

If Donald happened to stay five more episodes that’s something no one needed to know.
.
.
.
.
For Huey’s gift it was a bit more complicated.

He knew what he needed to get was in an ancient temple in the Sahara Desert, but Fenton had failed to mention which one. If he learned one thing while adventuring with his Uncle it was that there were more ancient temples than there logically should be and as tempting as it sounded to wander the Sahara Desert for months trying to find the correct one, Donald ultimately decided against it.

Fortunately, he happened to see the very person who knew exactly what temple he needed to go to everyday at his job. Unfortunately, that very person was in a predicament when he saw him next.

Donald had just finished the last sip of his coffee, as he strolled through security at the Money Bin.

At the time it was 6:30 in the morning, and given how he stayed up till late watching TV then spent another two hours tossing and turning on the houseboat, he had made a quick pit stop to pick up coffee and made sure they added in seven shots of espresso instead of his normal five.

After throwing away his heart attack coffee and yawning one more time he pressed his key card into the slot and walked into the lab.

Only to have a chair thrown at his head.

Donald hurriedly dodged out of the way as just in time for the chair to hit the doors. Quickly he looked up and saw Gyro and Fenton huddled under a desk as what looked like an angry huge vacuum machine sucked up furniture around the room and chucked it at various walls.

When he had left work the prior day, the two scientists had been working on an innovation that they said would ‘improve households across the world’ by creating a vacuum that could clean everything. It could clean floors, walls, ceilings, lawns, doors, windows, tables, fridges, beds, pet beds, mirrors, and strangely enough toasters.

It would be all in one device that would be affordable and make McDuck enterprises the number one company in the cleaning supplies industry.

At that moment, as he crouched low for safety and made his way across the lab, all Donald could wonder what was Gyro was doing that made all of his inventions so…unique.

“You there, assistant!” Donald heard Gyro yell as he was just about to take shelter against a wall that was out of the vacuum’s line of sight.

“I need you to go unplug the robot!”

Donald had turned his head to where his boss was frantically pointing and saw on the other side of the lab, which at the moment seemed miles away, in the very corner on the left side was a small outlet with a tiny cord plugged into it.

“You can make a shrink ray that can turn you microscopic but you have it so an evil vacuum robot needs to be plugged in?!”

Gyro scoffed, “First of all, it wasn’t evil when I added the cord, and secondly, if you don’t unplug it you're fired.”

Well Donald couldn’t argue with that logic.

Three more bruises, two cuts, and one new found hatred of vacuum cleaners later, Donald had stood looking at the now depowered robot, laying dead on the ground and held the ripped out extension limply in his hand.

“Not to sound rude or anything,” Donald said as he turned his gaze to the equally battered Fenton who was walking up to him, “but why couldn’t you get Gizmoduck to stop this?”

“It’s because this idiot,” Gyro said as he brushed of his clothes and adjusted his glasses, looking as casual as ever despite what happened, “Spilt orange juice on it- mind you a very valuable and high tech piece of equipment- so Gizmoduck is out of commission for a bit.”

Fenton who had chucked sheepishly, “Sorry Dr. Gearloose. But at the very least it let us see a flaw in the suit’s design! I mean what if an orange juice villain attacked us and-”

Gyro glared at Fenton who’s nervous ramblings dried up.

Later on Gyro holed himself up in the cleanest corner of the lab, scribbling in a notebook and muttering to himself -most likely about the failed machine- and Fenton and Donald set out to clean everything up a bit so when the janitors went to clean the lab they didn’t have a mental breakdown at seeing the wreckage.

Once the room was clean enough that the cleaning crew would only complain to Gyro about the state of it rather than quit all together Donald and Fenton sat against the lab wall and ate the sandwiches Donald had brought from home (seriously he doesn’t thing any of the two scientists would eat if he didn’t bring food for them).

“Fenton,” Donald asked him after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich, “You remember when we were in the park and talking about Huey’s gift.” The scientist nodded, “Where exactly is the temple located?”

“Oh!” Fenton said as he stood up and made his way to his desk. He searched around on it for a bit before frowning and searched the floor.

“Ah hah! Here it is!” He said in triumph as he picked a beat up tablet off the floor and walked over to Donald.

The young scientist told him that apparently Gyro had been working on a time project but was struggling with some calculations so Fenton had asked some online forums to check over Gyro’s equation.

“While I wasn’t able to find anyone who could help with the equations, some people suggested looking through these old internet archives that held rumors of a goblet that could let you see a possible future from whoever drinks water from it.”

Fenton turned around his tablet and Donald leaned in. An image of a rock with etchings of a goblet was shown on the screen and with Latin also carved into the stone. It didn’t surprise Donald in the least that the young scientist was able to read the dead language.

“It’s not exactly the most scientifically found but-!” Fenton tapped some more on the screen and turned it back around to show a news article titled, ‘Coincidence or Conspiracy?’

“There have also been reports in the Sarah desert near the location the stone described of people who have avoided grim fates that they saw in a ‘dream’ so I was thinking-“

“That they could have the goblet.” Donald finished, now just as eager as the younger duck.

“Exactly! Even just having a single drop of that water to analyze could help unlock the secrets to time travel! You going and getting it would not only help with me making Huey’s gift but also help us reach bounds of space and time previously unknown.” Fenton said excitedly.

“And while you're there you can also try this out.”

Gyro had seemingly popped out of nowhere and Donald almost jumped out of his skin when the scientist spoke.

Gyro had seemingly gotten over whatever funk he was in as his eyes now held a glint in it that Donald knew spelled out something bad.

The scientist also carried with him a ray gun of sorts which he held up, “I’ve been working on a teleportation device, but unfortunately it runs on solar power and needs at least 12 hours of extreme sunlight. I’ve only been able to test it one time here but in the desert it should be the best place for me to see it tested on a living being before I figure out a more efficient energy system.”

Gyro handed Donald the device and the sailor turned it over in his hands, examining it. It was true Donald didn’t quite figure out how he was gonna get out of the Sahara Desert. Going from Italy to the Sahara Desert was one thing, traveling across Africa, then the pacific ocean was another. He would either have to travel for months or spend hundreds of dollars on a plane and neither sounded appealing. Honestly Gyro was really helping him out here even if…wait.

“I would be the first living being you test on?”

“After you travel,” Gyro said as he ignored Donald’s question, “ Record anything that happens to you, if you experience any sudden shift in emotions or if you lose a limb.”

“I could lose a limb?!”

Gyro waved off Donald’s concerns, “Oh that only has a three percent chance of happening, practically nothing.”

Donald looked down at the device in his hand, well it was either this or pay 600 bucks for a plane ride back from Egypt.

He just hoped if he lost a limb it was a leg so he could get that peg leg he wanted when he was younger.
.
.
.
.
So with a clear and possibly (probably) deadly way to get back to America and the location of the temple all Donald had left to worry about was where he would be once he got back to the U.S.

Hollywood.

More specifically Egg Brother’s Studio lot.

Donald had stared at the letter Gladstone let him keep for a while.

He had debated on whether or not he should give Louie his gift early by having the green duckling go on the game show to win the money himself, but it felt like copping out by having Louie put in all the work for his own gift. He had also considered for a bit about asking Gladstone to go on and know that his cousin would win the prize easily but dismissed it quickly, that would negate the whole purpose of this being Donald’s gift.

So with no way out of it Donald sighed and set down the letter, realizing that he would just have to go and hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself.

He could do it, he wasn’t that clumsy was he? He could totally go up and act confident and not fumble the questions.

Right?

Right.

So in the end he ended up calling Gladstone in a panic at two a.m.

“Isn't it late over there Donaldo?” His cousin asked, confused and Donald could hear in the distance what sounded like people speaking French.

“Maybe, but you gotta tell me is black or blue more my color?”

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide what suit to wear on the show.” Donald said as he looked down at his two suit options.

They both weren’t great, patches littered the sleeves and back of the suits, and no matter how much he ironed he couldn’t get some of the wrinkles out of them. He might have considered going out to buy a new one but he couldn’t if he accounted for the cost for his supplies and to rent a boat to the Forgotten Island and to the coasts of Egypt (which was a pain to get, turns out placing Forgotten Island on the the applications as your intended place of arrival looked suspicious).

“What are you so stressed about cuz? You’ll do great! Just say the first thing that comes off the top of your head, always works for me.”

Donald pinched the bridge of his nose. He had recently been trying to be more patient with his cousin who didn’t seem to realize that what he considered innocent remarks, to others, sounded more like arrogant boasting.

“Gladstone, remember who I am for second.”

The line went silent for a moment before his cousin said, “Oh yeah. Well then I would say blue.”

Donald grabbed his blue suit from off the bed and put it on top of his suitcase.

“But don’t be nervous, I mean, haven’t you always wanted to strike it big and be famous with the three cappuccinos-”

“-Caberllos.”

“Yeah that, this can be your shot.”

Donald sighed and sat on his bed, “First of all, I don’t think my music career is gonna launch by me making a fool of myself on a game show. Secondly, I’m not doing this for me, I'm doing it for Louie.”

“Hey, I get what you mean, you're just getting yourself worked up. Do you want some advice?”

“No actually I was just calling you in the dead of night for fun.”

“Okay no need to be snippy, what you gotta do is- wait, hang on, give me a second.”

Donald waited patiently as he heard Gladstone adjust the phone and what sounded like an air horn go off before his cousin came back on the phone, “Sorry I’m the one millionth customer at this restaurant I walked into. Nice place, good customer service, but the pasta is just okay-”

“Gladstone, focus.”

“-anyway, what you gotta do is be friendly. Charismatic. A smile can get you a long way! You gotta lose the scowl.”

“I don’t scowl!”

“Donnie, look into a mirror and tell me what you see.”

Donald glanced at his window and saw his reflection on the glass illuminated by the moon, sporting an annoyed expression and a scowl planted firmly on his brows.

“Fine,” Donald said as he forced his face to relax, “I guess I may scowl a little.”

“Then you gotta walk into the place and act like you own it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Well you know, how do you act in that houseboat of yours?”

“Given how it’s on fire every other week I’m not sure I want to treat the studio like how I treat my boat, but I get what you mean.”

“I’m telling you, It’s all about confidence, friendliness, that’s how you’ll get through the competition looking good.”

Donald sat up straight and looked again at his reflection. He looked tired.

He smiled.

Nope, still tired.

Donald yawned, he was starting to lose focus of his eyes as they begged for sleep and it didn’t seem like he was gonna look less tired anytime soon, “Look, I gotta head off to bed, I don’t know if this will work but thanks for trying to help out though.”

“Cuz, wait.” Gladstone said as Donald was about to hang up.

“Yeah?”

“Just…don’t push yourself too much, okay and good luck.”

His cousin hung up after and Donald looked down at his phone in confusion.

Just when he thought he was getting the hang of the guy. He goes ahead and says something like that.

Donald yawned again and decided to leave the matter of his cousin to another day.

He had to make sure he looked well rested when he practiced his TV smile the next day.
.
.
.
That had been three nights ago. In that time Donald had finished buying the last of the supplies for the trip, looked up on what the region of the Sahara desert he was going to would entail, and practiced questions that could be on the game show. Which he was currently doing right now as he packed what he needed into his luggage.

“What is the name of the star closest to Earth?” Donald read aloud to himself from his phone as he folded a shirt.

How was he supposed to know? Wasn’t it called andromeda or something like that?

Donald set his shirt down in the duffle bag and checked his answer.

‘Answer: The Sun!’

Well there’s a reason why he only got a C- in astronomy during college.

“Ah phooey.” Donald mumbled as he scrolled down to the next question and picked up another shirt to fold.

“What’s the tallest animal in the world?” As Donald folded the sleeves of his shirt he thought of it for a moment before excitedly answering, “The fire breathing Dragons from the land of the ember and flames!”

He scrolled confidently down on his phone sure he had gotten it right and looked at the answer,

‘Answer: Giraffe!’

Well how was he supposed to know they were only talking about animals that technically weren’t fantasy and thought of as make believe!

On second thought, Giraffe made more sense.

“You’re doing this for your boys.” Donald said to himself as he resisted the urge to chuck his phone out and into the pool and scrolled down to the next question, “How many planets are in the-”

A knock sounded out from behind him and Donald quickly turned off his phone.

“It’s on the table,” he said as he set his shirt down and picked up a spool of rope.

Yesterday as soon as Donald arrived home from work, before he could even open the doors to the house boat he was stopped by an excited Dewey and Webby who wanted to show him something they dug up in the backyard.

“We found this chest,” Webby said as she hoped from foot to foot, Dewey bouncing along side her, “but we can’t open it because-”

“It has a lock and we need your bolt cutters.” Dewey finished.

“Why were you guys digging in- you know what I don’t want to know.” Donald said as he eyed the box that sat between the two kids.

It didn’t look like it would kill them all immediately when they opened it. Send out a terrible curse into the world sure, but not kill them, “Yeah you can use them-”

“Yay!”

“-but,” Donald continued, “I’ll be the one handling them, you could get hurt.”

Dewey had rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty sure I’ve faced more danger than bolt cutters.”

Ignoring his remark Donald walked into the house boat and found the bolt cutters. However when he walked back outside Dewey and Webby were nowhere to be seen and the box laid forgotten at the front of his house boat.

He didn’t know what had distracted them so much that they would abandon a mystery so quickly but he did know that they would come around for it eventually, so he left it sitting on the table in the kitchen for when the kids eventually came knocking on the door.

“I do nae know what you expect me to do with a random wooden box.”

Donald froze in tying up his rope and slowly turned to see not an overly excitable bunch of kids but instead an overly excitable Scottish man standing in his doorway.

Suddenly Donald became hyper aware of how his home must look. Mismatched boards lined the floor from the amount of times he’s had to fix them and the paint on the walls was cracked and falling off making the boat look worn down despite the fact that he had painted them less than three months ago.

He cleared his throat and turned back around, hoping that he appeared unbothered as he said, “Hi Uncle Scrooge, if it’s about the bowls I can pay you back for the broken ones next week.”

“No I’m not here for the bowls, although I’ll be talking to you about them later.”

Donald continued to have his back to his uncle as he stuffed the rope into his bag, “So what brings you around.”

“I think we need to have a talk, laddie.”

Well that was never a good sign.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t do I? Well then what are ye’ packing for then?”

That caught Donald off guard and he finally turned around to face his uncle whose arms were crossed.

“How did you-?”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow, “You think I wouldn’t know me own nephew’s working in the same building as me. I didn’t come to be Scrooge McDuck by not knowing what’s right under my nose. I also know that you requested a week of time off and that Launchpad is flying you.”

“I’m a grown adult, I can do what I want.”

“Not while you live under my roof.” Scrooge said.

Donald threw his hands up in the air “I’m not living under your roof, I'm living in your pool!”

“Same difference! Just tell me where are you going?”

“Away.” Donald said he angrily zipped up his duffle bag and made his way toward the door, only to be blocked by Scrooge.

“Tell me why you’ve been researching the Forgotten Island. And don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about either, I’ll never get back the time I lost listening to Quackfaster complain about your visit to the archives.”

In his research of where the island was located Donald had visited the McDuck family archives in hopes of finding the location, and while he succeeded he also managed to trip on the rug and crash into the shelves leading to him being chased out with a sword by a very angry librarian.

“Should have known she would rat me out,” Donald muttered as he let his bag slip from his hand and into the floor. He sighed, “I’m going for the boy’s birthday.”

Scrooge looked briefly surprised before narrowing his eyes, “You’re going to one of the most dangerous islands in the world. By yourself. For the boy's eleventh birthday?”

Donald shrugged, “I mean, if it helps I’m also going to this ancient temple in the Sahara Desert and then using an experimental teleportation device to go on national TV. So you know, it’s not that extreme if you think about it.

His uncle didn’t seem to agree as his scowl deepened and he asked, “What in blazes are you thinking by going out and doing all that for?”

“You literally go on daring adventures all the time, what’s different with mine?”

“The difference is you're going off recklessly for a blasted birthday party!

Donald scoffed, “Oh, so when you go off to gain some treasure or explore the unknown and it’s
adventurous but when I do it it’s reckless.”

“Because lad yer doing it with no backup, barley even a plan-“

“I have a plan! And why do you care? You haven’t talked to me for years, you barely talk to me now, what difference does it make if I’m gone for a couple days-“

“Because you're going to get yourself killed!”

“Just let me go-“

“No Della!”

Donald paused in what he was about to yell as the words died on his beak.

Oh.

Scrooge must have also realized what he said as his eyes widened and his beak hung open.

Nephew and Uncle stood quietly, in Donald’s tiny room, neither saying anything. It was strange, only three feet apart but they had a decade of distance between them.

His uncle was the first to break as he adjusted his hat downward and lowered his gaze. Donald took a deep breath and asked, “Nutmeg is still your favorite right?”

“Yes.” Scrooge replied, still keeping his gaze down on the floor.

Donald walked out his bedroom, his uncle allowing him to pass this time, and made his way to the kitchen.

Though in his opinion tea still tasted like leafy water, he had grown used to it in the years he spent living with his uncle, and though he still preferred coffee Donald always had some tea on hand in case he was feeling nostalgic for it. As the water boiled he heard footsteps from behind him and knew his uncle was there as Donald steeped the tea bags into the mugs and carried them over to the kitchen table.

Donald put down his uncle’s cup and took a seat. He sipped his own tea and let the familiar woody taste of it wash over him.

His uncle did the same, and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Aye, you still make a good cup of tea lad.”

“Thank you.”

It went back to silence as his uncle looked down at his tea and Donald fiddled with the handle of his cup. Biting the inside of his cheek he opened his beak.

“I’m sorry-”“Could you ever forgive-”

They both stopped and Donald cleared his throat, “You can go first.”

Scrooge continued to look at his tea for a moment before his gaze shifted upward and met Donald’s. His uncle in all the time he has known him, never once looked his age. His cane was more of a prop than anything else, his posture tall and proud, and his eyes gleamed with the lust for adventure. Never once had Donald been able to see his actual age but right then, his eyes looked like they had seen more than Donald ever could, have lived more than anyone on earth had but had grieved in a way that Donald knew he himself did as well.

“I am so sorry laddie, for ever having that blasted pile of metal built.” His uncle sighed, “Everyday I live with that regret, not just because I lost your sister, but because I lost you and the boys as well.”

It was strange for Donald, to look and see his Uncle Scrooge look so defeated. He knew even before the whole Magica incident that his uncle had felt regret over what happened to Della, though the extent to which his uncle went to to bring her back had shocked him the first time he heard about it. To see that Scrooge also felt grief over losing Donald as well settled something inside himself that he hadn’t even realized had been there and made him feel all too aware of his own shame.

“I think I have some things I need to apologize for as well Uncle Scrooge.”

His uncle looked up in confusion.

“I didn’t really think of how it would feel to lose someone and have nobody for support. I was just so angry,” Donald said, and he had been.

When they lost connection with his sister, his best friend and the person he was closest to in the world, all he wanted to do was get as far away as possible from the person he blamed. He packed up all the essentials, took the eggs, and left as quickly as he could. He sold off most of the treasure he had gotten on adventures, bought the house boat, and sat in his grief as he tried to pull himself together just enough to raise three boys. He avoided any news of his uncle, he looked away if he ever happened to be traveling near the money bin, and he let his grief and his anger keep him and his nephews away from the only family they had left for ten years.

“You were only trying to give your niece what would make her happy, you were trying to be a good uncle, like…like I’m doing right now…”

Was that what he was doing? Making a rash decision out of love that would just hurt himself and everyone in the end? Was the way he was feeling now what Della felt when she climbed into that rocket, set on giving the boys the stars?

Scrooge reached over the table and put a hand on his arm, giving Donald a sad smile.

“Don’t be daft laddie, you have nothing to apologize for, you raised three wonderful boys by yourself for ten years. You were trying to protect them, as any parent would do.”

Donald shook his head, “I wasn’t supposed to be their parent, this was never meant for me. I just took her place, and I can’t even do that right.” He gestured to the houseboat, “They were supposed to have a life of adventure from the beginning, we were meant to do this all together, and now I can’t even offer them a damn birthday gift that means anything. I want to be the parent they would have had if she were here but I just, I just….can’t.”

If Della were here the boys would have grown up in the mansion. Huey would have earned all his junior woodchuck badges, Dewey would have known all the ins and outs to adventures like the back of his hand, and Louie would be living the life of luxury he always wanted from the very start. The boys would have grown up with not just one uncle but two, Scrooge wouldn’t have sequestered himself in his home and Donald wouldn’t have thrown himself at work trying to drown out the loss he felt in his soul.

If Della were here, everything would have been right.

“Donald, lad, can you look at me for a moment.”

Donald sat, feeling like a petulant child despite those years being long behind him, and forced his eyes to meet his Uncle’s.

“You are not Della no, you don’t take to adventures as easily, and you aren’t as carefree. But you are something just as good and just as amazing, you are Donald Duck.”

His uncle became a blurry figure as Donald felt tears well up in his eyes.

“You love so much, and with your entire being. You give the kids normalcy in a way every child should have, that part of me wishes I could have done for you and your sister. They love you so much, Huey told me how it was you that put him in the Junior woodchucks even though you hated nature because you knew he would enjoy it. I’ve seen you patch up every cut and scrap Dewey has had and pick him up when he goes too far. You support Louie even when I haven’t been able to see past his laziness, you always knew he was more than what meets the eye. You were not supposed to be their parents, no, but you were the best one they could have asked for.”

Donald missed his sister. He missed her laugh, and her insane antics, and even the way she would wake him up in the middle of the night just to talk about some crazy dream she just had. He struggled so much with his grief and the feeling of being an imposter as he raised his nephews, her boys (his boys). The feeling grew as he watched his uncle be a part of their lives teaching them and giving them experiences that Della would have given them.

But maybe it didn’t have to be either or.

Maybe it didn’t have to be that the kids would have only a single type of parent or life, maybe they could have both. Maybe they could have, should have both.

“All to say that you don’t need to go out and give them some extravagant gift, because you know your kids, and know deep down not what they want, but what they need.”

Donald rubbed at his eyes and laughed despite himself, he hadn’t cried in years and now he’s two for two in just a short couple of months. And all because of his Uncle Scrooge.

“Well, I don’t know about me being able to figure that out right now,” Donald said as he gave his uncle a tired but happy smile, “But I think right now what everyone needs is to be together again, not just you and the boys or me and the boys but all of us.”

His uncle smiled as well and Donald could see a sheen in his eyes.

“Aye, that sounds just like what we need.”

And maybe things weren’t perfect, in some aspects far from it. After all Donald had 200 dollars worth of hitchhiking gear he had to return, needed to explain to his boss why he wouldn’t be trying out his dangerous teleportation device, and probably needed to have a long phone call with the production studio about him dropping out of the competition (which thank god because he realized that he needed to brush up on his basic knowledge again and also couldn’t smile on cue to save his life) but still. In that moment, uncle and nephew teary eyed, two feet apart but a whole ten minutes closer than they used to be, it felt close to perfect for Donald.

(Even if the box that Dewey and Webby left did end up containing a curse artifact that broke through the chest and wrecked havoc on his house boat)
.
.
.
.
‘Something they need’ Donald thought as he stared up into the night sky from his bed.

He had just gotten off the phone with Gyro, promising that to make up for not testing the teleportation device he would help with testing out the new state of the art security at the bin. Though he imagined a lot of pain in his future the conversation felt far away as he looked through his windows.

The stars seemed dull that night but the moon was beautiful. All consuming as it hung large and bright in the sky and blocked out everything else around it.

Something they need…….

Donald sat up.

“I got it.”

Chapter Text

When the Sabrewing’s car drove in through the gates of the mansion Donald could have wept in gratitude.

Although Donald didn’t have to worry so much about the general setup of the party as Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth handled that, managing his nephews before the actual party started made him wonder how he got everything done in the past.

Huey wasn’t too bad to handle, at the very least unlike his siblings he actually agreed to brush his teeth and get dressed before the party with little complaint.

The issue however came when he got back from brushing his teeth.

“As the Junior Woodchuck guidebook states,” Huey said as he examined the shirts in his closet, “What you wear defines how people perceive you and who you want to be perceived. Should I try to have my shirt show off my maturity or would that be doing too much?” The young duck held up the shirts before he shook his head and put them back in the closet.

Donald hadn’t had the heart to tell him that all of his shirts looked practically identical, so it really didn’t matter, leading to a grueling ten minutes of Huey showing him every shirt in his closet and asking what looked best before Donald’s patience thinned and he grabbed a shirt at random.

“Here, I think the bright, uh redness is what you need for today.”

Huey gazed at the shirt for a moment, before he smiled and grabbed it from Donald’s hand, “I think you're right Uncle Donald!”

Louie’s issue was a bit different. He didn’t really care about what he wore on his birthday, not being the overthinking that Huey was, however there was still some trouble when it came to something else that he cared deeply about when it came to his birthday…

“No.”

“Oh come on, I just want to open three! Two? I’ll even settle for one!” Louie said as he reached his hand toward the gifts stacked carefully on a table in the living room. Donald swatted his hand away and stared the youngest triplet down, “We’ll open up gifts after cake, and no that doesn’t mean you should convince Mrs. Beakley to serve cake at the start of the party so you could open up gifts right away.”

Louie pouted before smiling sweetly and saying, “You know I don’t even want the gifts, because I have the best gift of all. Family. Because family does their best to make sure everyone is happy and-”

“No.”

The grin slipped off of Louie’s face and he slouched as he kicked at the rug, “Did that even work a little,” he asked as he looked up.

“Nope,” Donald said with a smile as he ushered the green clad duckling out of the room, “Now go get ready.”

Dewey was…well he was what Donald had expected he would be like.

“I found them in the pantry.” Mrs. Beakley said curtly as she held a scowling Dewey by the shirt in one hand and a cowed Webby in the other, both covered in flour.

“Sorry Granny,” the pink duck said as she glanced at her grandmother apologetically.

The housekeepers face softened and a small smile appeared on her face as she said,“It’s alright dear, no well harm done, although-” Mrs. Beakley said as her face hardened once more and she deposited the children unceremoniously at Donald’s feet, “-I would greatly appreciate it if I had no more disruptions in my kitchen for the rest of the day,” she said with a glare at Donald.

He chuckled sheepishly and picked up Dewey and Webby, tucking them under his arms as he backtracked out of the kitchen.

“Really Dewey. Why are you covered in flour?” Donald asked as he carried the children across the halls and towards the bathroom.

“What? I was going to beat the all time record for the amount of flour eaten in a minute!”

Why Dewey wanted to break that specific record instead of just about any other , he’ll never know, instead Donald had raised an eyebrow and asked, “What is the all time record?”

“Well Huey said technically there is no record because eating that much flour is ‘dangerous’ or whatever, but that just means that I could pave the way for a whole new generation of world records!” Dewey said triumphantly.

Opting to hold off the conversation about not attempting dangerous world records for another day he turned his gaze to Webby and asked, “And you, I didn’t think you would do something like this to try and break a world record.”

Webby looked sheepish and said, “Flour just looks like it would be fun to eat, it’s so soft!”

Ah. Of course.

“Whatever the case,” Donald said as he set them down gently at the bathroom door, “You guys can’t run around all day covered in flour, so I want you to brush your teeth and get changed while I go make sure Louie didn’t sneak back down to try and open up some presents early.”

“Okay Uncle Donald, they both said, Dewey looking a bit grumpy before an idea seemed to strike him.

“What do you think the world record is for the most amount of tooth paste even in one minute?”

All to say that when Sabrewing’s arrived at the mansion on time to the party Donald tried his best to not seem desperate as he ushered in the family and got them situated. Webby was the first of the children to run down the stairs, immediately lit up upon seeing her friends. She ran to them and squealed as she pulled them into a hug.

“Lena! Violet! Oh I’m so happy you guys are the first to show up!” She said as she let go of the embrace and beaming with happiness.

“Well I tried to get us to show up fashionably late but she wouldn’t allow it,” Lena said as she nodded at Violet.

“It is the most fashionable to show up precisely on time.” The hummingbird replied calmly.

Lena snorted at that statement before turning her gaze to the approaching triplets, “Happy birthday, shorties," she said, which said ‘shorties’ looked offended by before Violet took three wrapped boxes from Mr. Sabrewing and held it out to them.

Catching the glint in Louie’s eye, Donald strode forward and quickly took the presents from Violet, chuckling nervously as he said, “I got it actually. Why don’t you guys go outside and play some games while everyone else arrives.”

Webby immediately caught on like Donald hoped she would and grabbed onto Dewey’s and Violet’s hand, dragging them towards the backyard.

“Oh my gosh, we finally have enough to play War of the Ogres of Doom now’” she said excitedly, Dewey whooped and Violet looked intrigued as an amused Lena and reluctant Louie and Huey followed them outside.

Donald gave a sigh of relief at the situation they had just avoided and allowed his shoulders to relax.

“Got the birthday stress huh?” one of Violet’s dads said with a chuckle as he walked up beside the tired duck.

Donald didn’t really know much about Indy and Ty Sabrewing, they seemed like nice people and he was eternally grateful to them for taking in Lena (she really was a sweet girl under all the snarky comments and bluster) but as he glanced at Indy Sabrewing’s knowing grin he also had a sense they would be kindred spirits as well.

“That obvious?” he said as he shifted the gifts in his hands that were threatening to fall over.

“Just a bit, but don’t worry, we love Violet to death and she’s normally calm about most things but even for her when it comes to her birthday it can be a bit of a hassle,” Ty Sabrewing said as he stepped up beside his husband.

It did make Donald feel better to know that universally children seemed set to stress their parents out on the day of their birth, and he opened his mouth to commemorate this fact when he heard a crash from outside.

“Oh that must be Launchpad, I’m so sorry would you mind putting these on the table in the living room, it’s in that first door to the left.”

“Of course, no problem,” Indy said with a smile, taking the gifts from the ducks outstretched hands and walking to the living room with his husband.

For the next thirty minutes Donald spent his time alternating between the front door, backyard, living room, and kitchen as the party spun into full gear. Launchpad had of course crashed into the gate outside and so Donald helped get him and his presents out of the wreckage and made a note to ask Launchpad to park somewhere away from the mansion next time.

Fenton had arrived next, looking a bit worse for the wear and with an apologetic look on his face as he explained that he got caught up in Gizmoduck stuff. Before Donald could wave off his apologies he heard someone clear their throat and him and Fenton turned around to see Duckworth looming in the hallway with an unimpressed look on his face. Fenton slapped his forehead and pulled out his notebook, muttering bitterly to himself as he wrote Duckworth's name down.

Gladstone cruised in not too soon after, wearing a brand new luxury suit offering Donald an easygoing grin as he held up the nephews gifts in his hand.

“What did you get them,” Donald asked as he took the presents from his cousin.

Gladstone shrugged, “I don’t know, haven’t opened them up yet.”

Well that was mildly infuriating.

The routine he had gotten into for the day was later broken, with Donald raising an eyebrow at the poorly disguised second richest duck in the world who was wearing a terrible attempt at a teenage outfit and standing at the mansion's gates, waiting to be let in.

“Really Glomgold?”

“What!?” the rich duck said in a high pitched voice, “Who’s that handsome sounding duck? No I’m Teeny Kiddo, best friend of Hue something, Denid, and uh, the green one.”

It was silent for a few moments as Donald continued to stare at his former boss.

Seeing that he wasn’t fooling anybody, Glomgold dropped the act and laughed maniacally, “That’s right it’s me, the best Scottish billionaire duck in the world, Flintheart Glomgold! You may have foiled my master plan this time, but let me see you foil this!”

Glomgold took out a present from who knows where and tried to toss it over the gate.

He failed and it fell back down landing on his face and the older duck screamed as a scorpion crawled out from the box and proceeded to attack him. Donald only shook his head and walked back to the mansion's front door without saying another word.

Donald decided to take a break and check in on the party after the…distraction and made his way to the backyard. He opened the door to the yard and smiled as Huey ran past, laughing as he dodged being hit by a toy dart shot Lena shot at him.

It seemed like the war game was going well, Webby was of course in her element, dodging a dart the speed of a trained spy before going into a crouch beside Violet, most likely to talk about a strategy of some sort. Even Louie appeared to be having fun, but that may have been because he managed to land a hit on Dewey who appeared hell bent on revenge on his laughing brother.

It certainly was a stark contrast from the previous years, when it had mainly just been him and the boys celebrating quietly on the houseboat. The most amount of noise and movement came from Dewey as he would always see if he could do a backflip now that he was one year older.

(Given that he never actually practiced doing one it didn’t surprise Donald that he always failed every year)

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a birthday party here,” said a voice from beside him and he turned to see his uncle looking at the scene with a fond smile on his face.

“Still kept all the decorations though,” Donald said as he nodded at the streamers and banners he remembered from his own childhood parties at the mansion.

“Well of course! I’m not made of money you know,” the Scottish trillionaire said with a scoff and Donald couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Donald spotted Mrs. Beakley as she made her way across the back lawn, causally dodging running children that crossed her path.

“The cake is all prepared now if you think the children are ready to be served,” she told them as she calmly caught a dart that was heading straight for her face.

Not for the first time Donald wondered where Scrooge had found a housekeeper with the reflexes of a trained spy.

“I think it’s time,” Donald said as he cupped his hands to his beak and yelled, “Time for cake!”

The rush was immediate as Dewey dropped his dart gun and ran for the door, Lena and Webby hot on his heels.

“This is all so exciting! I've only ever been to a Beagle’s birthday party.” He heard Webby say to Dewey as they ran past and Donad made a note to follow up on that later.

“I see that you’re following Junior Woodchuck protocol by dressing appropriately for your birthday,” Violet said as she and Huey took a calmer approach and walked to go get cake.

“Thank you! Someone gets it,” Huey said in return as they both passed by.

“Oh this is going to be great, I can’t wait to open my pre- I mean eat cake.” Louie said excitedly, changing what he was going to say when he saw the deadpan expression on Donald’s face.

As they all gathered in the dining hall, wrapping around the table with his nephews sitting side by side, joking and laughing with one another, Donald felt his heart swell at the sight and pulled his phone out, taking some photos that he was one hundred percent going to frame later on.

Mrs. Beakley wheeled out the cake, two tier (so it looks impressive for Louie), blue frosted (for Dewey), and sweet but still relatively low in sugar (so Huey didn’t have a sugar crash out), and Scrooge lit the candles despite Dewey offering several times to do so.

The song was sung (Donald’s not ashamed to admit he felt his eyes well up) and the cake was cut and passed around.

It took only five minutes for Louie to finish his cake and look up at Donald with a faux innocent smile on his face, “Sooooo, time for presents?”

Donald put down his down slice of cake with a sigh and looked over at his other two nephews. Dewey was already on his third slice, meaning that he would need to be cut off soon, and Huey was still eating his first slice, though Donald knew it took him a while to finish anything sweet.

“Well if you can get everyone to the living room then maybe-”

“Okay people!” Louie shouted as he stood on top of the kitchen table, “It’s gift time, everyone head to the living room!”

“Louie.”

“Sorry. Everyone head to the living room please.”

Fortunately no one seemed to mind so much being yelled at by a child (he supposed everyone in the room had faced stuff far stranger than that), and so everyone began filing out, chattering and laughing as they followed the green-clad duckling who led the way towards the mansion’s living room.

Donald stayed behind to clean up a bit before heading over, feeling the worry that he had been pushing back all day when it came to the thought of the triplet’s gifts. He had his tucked away under the table, hidden by the table cloth so the kids wouldn’t try to open his first. He knew after all the effort he put in that the kids would like the gifts, but he still found himself nervous as he threw away the last of the used paper plates and made his way to the living room.

By the time he arrived, the floor was littered with wrapping and tissue paper. Louie appeared to be counting whatever money someone had given to him in a birthday card, before stopping abruptly and shouting, “Is this 200 dollars?!”

“Oh yeah,” Launchpad said apologetically as he rubbed the back of his head, “I got twenty and two hundred mixed up at the ATM, sorry about that.”

Louie ran up to Launchpad and hugged him, “I have never been more grateful for your obliviousness."

Dewey was gawking over a new book someone had gotten him, “The New Incredibly Awesome Book of World Records!” He read out excitedly and he flipped through the pages.

“The record for the farthest arrow shot using feet, the world record for the stretchiest skin, oh! The world record for the loudest burb, look out world because I will be Deweing all of these.”

Gladstone tapped his chin in thought and said, “You know I was wondering why it was that book in particular I tripped over when I was in Hawaii.”

Huey meanwhile was gazing at his own gift with absolute wonder as he turned it over in his hands.

“Is this a limited edition electronic planner from Waddle Duck!” he exclaimed as he fiddled with the buttons.

“Even better,” Fenton said as he walked up beside the red duckling, “Though I wasn’t able to do the time manipulation like I originally planned I was able to spruce up the Waddle tech to make it even more efficient! It can connect to the internet to tell you of any possible delays to your schedule due to weather or current events and it even provides suggestions on how to make your schedule more structured.”

Huey turned his eyes back to the planner and stared at the device as if it held all the secrets in the universe.

“Wait guys!” Louie said as he turned his eyes back to the almost empty gift table, “We haven’t opened up Uncle Scrooge’s gift yet.”

“Oh yeah you're right!” Dewey said and an excited grin spread over his and Huey’s face.

“I bet it’s going to be really expensive!”

“And cool!”

“And educational!”

The triplets ran to the table and grabbed the remaining bags on the table. Louie opened his first and his happy smile turned to a look of confusion as he pulled out what was in the bag.

“Marbles?”

Gladstone burst out laughing and Donald smiled along too. Memories flooded back of his own thirteenth birthday when he also excitedly opened his present from his rich Uncle Scrooge, hoping for the new guitar picks he asked for and only to find a bag of marbles in it.

“What?” Scrooge said as he glanced from the amused adults to the disappointed children, “That’s what kids like isn’t it?”

“Maybe in the 1920s,” Lena muttered and Violet nudged her in the ribs, though the comment only made Gladstone laugh harder and he had to lean on Donald for support.

“It’s a thoughtful gift.” Webby said as she patted Scrooge on the arm supportively.

Scrooge didn't seem to feel better at the comment however as he crossed his arms and glared at the ground, “So ye’ blame me for not keeping up with the trends of the kiddos nowadays, I can’t keep track! One moment you all want slinkies and then the next it’s furboy things.”

“I think you're thinking of Furby’s Uncle Scrooge.” Donald said as he walked towards the gifts table and pulled out his own gifts from under it.

The children’s eyes immediately snapped to the new presents and Donald felt the focus of the room land on him as he gulped and walked towards the triplets.

He leaned down and looked his kids in the eyes as he said, “It’s not much but I think you’ll like it.”

It seemed to subdue the triplets somewhat and they shared a glance and before nodding and looking back at Donald.

“We’ll love anything you get us Uncle Donald,” Huey said with a smile as he reached for his gift.

His oldest unwrapped his present, revealing a worn out book. Louie leaned over and raised an eyebrow when he saw what was on the cover and shared a confused look with Dewey. Huey himself seemed a bit bewildered as he looked up with a forced smile on his face and, “Wow, a used copy of the Junior Woodchuck guide book, uh, thanks Uncle Donald I do love the Junior Woodchucks.”

Donald laughed and tapped the book cover, “Read the first page.”

Huey opened up the book and scanned the first page before gasping and fumbling with it.

“What? What does it say?” Dewey said as he took the book from his brother and opened it. Louie peered over his brother’s shoulder and read out loud, “Do not take if you are not the owners of this book, Donald Duck and Della Duck… wait, Mom?!”

Chapter Text

When Donald had laid down in his houseboat and stared up at the moon in the sky that night a week or so ago he had been at a loss. Uncle Scrooge had said that he could get the kids not what they wanted but what they needed for their birthday but then the question came, what exactly did they need?

Food, water, and shelter had been what he had focused on for ten years but he didn’t think his uncle wanted him to go out and buy his nephews jugs of water for their birthday.

He missed Della in that moment, he missed her in every moment but he knew that if she was there they would be brainstorming together. She would throw out insane ideas for gifts that would probably get the kids hurt and Donald would argue right back. They would be laughing instead of him sulking all alone, if she were there…

He sat up as an idea struck him, and he quickly picked up his phone, he scanned his contacts until he landed on the one he wanted and pressed the call button.

Donald held the phone to his ears and listened to the ringer.

‘Will he even be awake?’ he thought to himself and almost considered hanging up and trying again the next day when he heard a click and the call went through.

“Hello!” A cheerful voice from the other end said and he sat up straight.

“Hi! This is Donald, so sorry for calling late.”

“Donald?” The other end laughed a very familiar laugh, “Well how are you doing buddy? It’s been a while, how are things going?”

“They’re going good,” Donald said as a smile grew on his face.

Gosh it had been a while hadn’t it, Donald had almost forgotten how much he missed talking to him.

“How about you, how has Max been?”

“Oh Maxie’s been great! He’s been so happy being with Roxanne. We’ve even been able to bond more as well. Speaking of which, I'm sorry about not being able to go to the triplets' birthday party because of the family reunion.”

“It’s alright Goofy, I understand family business and all that,” Donald said with a wave of his hand before he realized the gesture couldn’t be seen and he cleared his throat, “That’s actually partially why I’m calling you. I was thinking as a gift for my nephew’s I can give them some of the old stuff that I put in your storage unit, and I was wondering if you're free this Saturday so I can go down and sort through everything.”

“Well sure! Anything for a friend ,” Goofy said, sounding slightly surprised, “But uh, are you sure? Do you think you’ll be okay?”

Donald wasn’t all too surprised at the question as he tilted his head and considered it.

After all, the reason why he put everything he had of Della’s away was because when she first left he couldn’t even stand to look at it. He had gone crazy over it, stuffing it all in his bedroom on the houseboat and opting to sleep in the living room instead, just to avoid her things all together. It was the fourth month after her departure that Goofy had stopped by to check in on how he was doing. He brought Max over who was endlessly fascinated by the three small identical Ducklings and while the children played he and Goofy had huddled at the kitchen counter talking quietly.

Amongst the topics of being stressed out of his mind at raising three kids and watching as his funds grew smaller and smaller Donald had mentioned how he didn’t know what to do with Della’s stuff, part of him wanted to chuck it into the ocean and never have to think about it again while the other part of him wanted to lock himself in with all her things and sink into the memory of her.

Goofy luckily wasn’t put off by Donald’s sleep deprived and grief filled statements and instead gave him a sad look of understanding before offering to take it off his hands and put it into his storage unit. That way, he could keep Della’s things without needing to be constantly around them.

It was originally just supposed to be for a bit until Donald could look at anything if his sister’s without feeling the urge to cry but that bit of time turned into a decade as he procrastinated over revealing anything of her to his nephews. Now though for the most part what happened to her was out in the open, and he knew he was only being selfish by keeping the memories of her locked away and collecting dust. Although it hurt, it was time to go through her stuff, if his gut feeling was correct, what his boys needed right now from him are memories of their mom, which they seemed to have so little of.

So with some mixed feelings Donald pushed aside his trepidation and said, “I’ll be okay, and besides, we haven’t hung out in a bit, it’ll give us time to catch up.”
.
.
.
.
That Saturday he had parked his scrap metal of a car a block away from Spoonville’s Storage Facility and walked down the row of identical metal doors until he came across the one that was Goofy’s. He leaned against the wall next to it to wait for him to show up, not all too worried about his friend being late.

Ten minutes later he saw Goofy walking towards him with an apologetic smile on his face,

“Sorry for making you wait, bud,” Goofy said as he pulled out the keys to the storage from his pocket, “Had a bit of an accident with putting on my shoes and some peanut butter and a pigeon. That’s the last time I ever try to eat breakfast while getting ready to go out a-hyuck!.

Donald only shook his head fondly at Goofy’s story and said, “I get the peanut butter but I don’t even want to know how the pigeon factors in.”

He watched as Goofy unlocked the padlock on the storage unit and lifted up the metal sheet door. Together they walked into the crowded room and Donald sighed as he looked at the boxes upon boxes of items that were a mixture of Goofy’s, Donald’s, and Della’s.

“Are you sure you’re alright buddy?” Goofy asked from beside him. It was strange hearing Goofy be so serious but nevertheless Donald appreciated the sentiment.

“I’m alright, just thinking of how much of a hassle it’s gonna be going through everything.”

The smile returned to Goofy’s face at that admission and Donald couldn’t help but do the same in return before setting his shoulders and rolling up his sleeves. Time to get to work.

The first ten minutes proved to be fruitless as all Donald got to show for it was dust in his eyes and nose and some bugs that he swatted away as quickly as he could.

He wasn’t even quite sure at first what he was looking for. He knew it had to be something that each of his kids would appreciate when it came to their mom, but that was a vague thing to be looking for.

‘Although,’ he thought as he opened another box and peered inside, ‘I can at least say that they probably wouldn’t want Della’s old prom dress’

He closed the box and pushed it aside, but before he could open up another one he heard a crash and turned around to see Goofy tangled in a pile of Christmas lights.

“Whoops,” Goofy said with a laugh when Donald came over to help untangle him from the mess.

“I was just trying to reach that box over there, thought it may have something for you,” Goofy said as Donald pulled the Christmas lights off of him, nodding towards a shelf on the wall.

Turning Donald looked to see a box labeled, ‘Old Junior Wood Chuck Stuff’ and gasped in delight, “That’s absolutely perfect for Huey! You’re a genius Goofy,” Donald said as he made his way over to the box.

“Glad I can help buddy,” came the cheerful reply from behind him before Donald heard another crash and he briefly glanced over his shoulders to see Goofy sprawled on the ground, knocked over boxes surrounding him.

Taking the box down and opening it up Donald was hit with vivid memories of his Junior Woodchuck days as he took out his old sash which had significantly less badges then his sisters which was right under.

There were some aspects of Junior Woodchucks that he enjoyed, learning to sow, getting to practice his first aid skills when he inevitably tripped down a flight of stairs, but he despised having to be outdoors. He still didn’t know why anybody would choose to spend a day outdoors in 90 degree weather with mosquitoes swarming them as they hiked up steep mountains when they could be literally anywhere else. Donald got chills even just thinking about it and he was once again glad at his decision to drop out of the Woodchucks as soon as he could, even though Della had chosen to stay in it for as long as she could.

He moved aside her sash and found what he was looking for, his old Junior Woodchuck guidebook, which he dusted off and opened up.

Technically Della had her own book, as their parents bought them each one when they signed up the twins for Junior Woodchuck. However his sister had the annoying habit of forgetting hers at home and so would take to borrowing -stealing- Donald’s whenever they had a meeting despite his complaints. He had even tried to write down in the coverpage that the book was clearly HIS in permanent marker, although his sister didn’t take the hint and just found a pen and added her name under it as well. He flipped to a random page and lo and behold his sister’s notes were written on the columns of the page, observations and edits she added when it came to her opinion on waiting patiently when fishing (which apparently wasn’t a very high one as she had written next to the statement in all caps ‘BORING’).

Donald closed the book and tucked it under his arm. Huey would absolutely love going over his mother’s notes, and he’s sure that he would delight in the shared opinions they have on some topics in the book that Donald couldn’t even muster the will to care about. It was the perfect gift for Huey.

As for Dewey’s Present…

Out of all the triplets Dewey has always reminded Donald the most of his mother, which hurt a bit when Dewey would smile or do something reckless and all Donald could think of was Della. Dewey was also the one who wanted to know about his mom the most, who asked about her even when Huey and Louie knew it was a strained topic in their house and who had been the one to work the most at uncovering the ‘secret’ of her disappearance.

When it came to Dewey’s gift Donald felt that he almost had to make up for the years he kept her a secret from them, more so then with his other nephew’s gifts, and so spent a while debating over some of her items before putting them aside. They just didn’t feel right. Although he knew that Dewey would probably appreciate anything of Della's, just giving him one of her old jackets or a trophy she won in high school didn’t seem like it would be profound enough.

He groaned in annoyance after looking through another box and finding nothing of note and had been thankfully distracted by his frustrations when Goofy had come walking over to him with a grin on his face.

“Remeber this?” Goofy asked as he showed a page to the book he was holding in his hand. Donald took one glance at the page before bursting out laughing.

“That’s absolutely horrible,” Donald said through gasps as he tried to catch his breath and took hold of the book.

It was their old yearbook from sophomore year of high school, also the year that Della thought getting a mohawk would be a good idea. Scrooge had of course not allowed it, saying a stern no even after Della begged and promised not to do any more loops on the plane anymore if he would let her get one.

Of course nothing ever stopped Della Duck, so one night she managed to convince Donald to sneak out with her and go over to their old friend Minnie’s house. Minnie had been aspiring to be a hair dresser at the time and had been more than happy to give Della the haircut she wanted.

Minnie was a sweetheart, really, but there was a difference between being able to give someone bangs and being able to do a very elaborate mohawk, which they all found out the hard way when Minnie finished her cutting and looked at Della in mortification as Donald held back his laughter and his sister stared dumbstruck at the mirror Minnie had placed in her hands.

Della’s photo of her and that ridiculous haircut that took four months to grow out stared back at him, smiling without a care in the world in her yearbook photo.

“She never could resist having a photo taken even when she looked ridiculous,” Donald said with a chuckle as his laughter died down and he handed back the yearbook to Goofy.

And it was true, Della loved taking photos and videos even at moments most people wouldn’t. In fact Donald remembered one summer…

Donald sprang up at the memory, “Of course,” he said out loud to the bewildered Goofy, “Why didn’t he think of it sooner? The adventure photos!”

He stumbled away from where was sitting and opened up some boxes a couple feet away from him, he searched through them and smiled when he found what he was looking for, holding it up triumphantly he spun around and showed it off to Goofy.

“The summer we turned thirteen Della decided to take a photo on every adventure we went on with Uncle Scrooge,” Donald explained as he opened the photo album in his hands and showed the photos to Goofy.

Goofy caught on and his look of confusion turned to one of happiness as he looked that various photo, “And you think-”

“This would be perfect for Dewey!” Donald finished as he turned the album back to himself.

Della’s grinning face was in most of them, her arm stretched out as she held the camera in her hand. Some of them were normal, taken when they were getting on the plane or when they had first landed at whatever far away place their uncle had whisked them off to. Others were taken when they were fighting, in one of them Della is hanging upside down, being held by the leg by a tentacle monster of sorts, he can see himself struggling in the background to get out of the monster's grip while their Uncle is mid jump, cane raised and ready to hit the monster.

The best thing yet however is that Donald knew for a certainty that Dewey would absolutely adore this photo album.

He had two children’s gifts decided and Donald felt excited at the prospect that he actually managed to pull through and get all of his nephews gifts despite all of his worrying. Though the excitement died down as he remembered the last of his children who he knew was going to be the most difficult to pick something out for.

Louie.

Louie was Della’s child, Donald knew that for certain. Donald didn’t get to see as many moments of her in him as with Huey or Dewey but Donald could still see her shine brightly through on occasion. Those times he got easily distracted or bored, or the fact that he was so smart and clever but hated school because he felt that he could be doing so much more outside of it.

But Louie was also the most disconnected from Della, he didn’t ask about her like Dewey did or show an interest like Huey when she was brought up. Donald knew it wasn’t apathy that made Louie not gravitate toward the thought Della like his brothers did but a lack of understanding when it came to her. Louie didn’t know her, not past being an adventurer, and while that satisfied Dewey Donald knows that to the youngest triplet it felt like their mother was a stranger.

How do you convey to somehow who they were with a simple gift, outside of being an adventure, or a Woodchuck, or silly or impulsive, how could Donald show to Louie how amazing and flawed and wonderful Della is-

Was.

Donald thought on the idea, not bothering to go through Della’s things anymore as he sat crossed legged and leaned against the wall. He closed his and racked his brain for anything he had of Della’s that he could give to Louie to help connect with his mother more.

He heard a shuffle and opened his eyes to see Goofy next to help, a smile still on his face, though gentler than it normally was.

“Why didn’t I just tell them about her before,” Donald asked quietly, turning his head away from Goofy so he could look at the ceiling of the storage unit, "Everything would be so much easier.”

“Maybe because if you talked about her it would mean she was gone,” was Goofy’s answer, said kindly in a way that was so like him, though it hurt all the same.

Because Donald knew he was right.

She was gone, and he was here.

Alone.

But he wasn’t was he? It felt that way sometimes, but in the past couple of weeks, he’d come to realize that wasn’t quite the case. He had Launchpad, and Fenton (even Gyro if he caught him on a good day), and Gladstone even if he was a pain in the but, and Fethry, and Uncle Scrooge, and Duckworth, and his children, Goofy sitting beside him, and… and even Della.

Beacaue… just because she was gone didn’t mean she disappeared. It hurt to think of her, gosh did it hurt, because it always felt like a piece of his heart was missing, but thinking about her meant not just thinking about her disappearance, but of the good times as well. The moments that were difficult, but they faced together, and moments when he was so mad at her and she was angry at him, but they would yell and maybe punch each other a bit and soon enough they were laughing like nothing happened. He had those memories of her and he certainly didn’t want to lose them and more importantly he didn’t want his nephews not to know that side of her as well. To know how much she loved, and who she was, and how much she tried.

A sudden realization came to him (he’d been having those a lot recently) and he moved away from the wall had been leaning against.

He thinks that Louie would appreciate it, seeing all angles of her and not just the tales that are told by Uncle Scrooge that glorify her and build her up. Seeing her for the mother she was and wanted to be.

And maybe he had just the thing…

“Do you think I could borrow your charger for a bit?”

Goofy blinked at the question.

“Well sure buddy, did something happen to yours?”

“Nope,” Donald said as he stood up and picked up his gifts for Dewey and Huey from the ground, “I just know you have the old model, I need it to charge Della’s phone.”

This didn’t seem to clear up anything for Goofy as he only looked more confused and he scratched his head, “I should have a spare one in my care, I don’t know what you're planning on doing but I’m happy to help out a-hyuck!”

Goofy gave him a happy grin and Donald felt extremely lucky at the moment that he had Goofy in his life.

“I think you’ve helped me more than you can know,” Donald said as he raised his hand to help Goofy get up.
.
.
.
.
Later on in the houseboat, after he had just finished wrapping Huey and Dewey’s gifts he sits on the couch next to the outlet and unplugs Della’s phone. It was fairly new when she had gotten it, and hadn’t been used since then so it was in pretty great condition.

He found the messaging app and found his own name, clicking on it and ignoring the lump in his throat as he scrolled past the last messages he and Della exchanged before she had left, only stopping when he saw a very familiar voice message.

The day she found out she was pregnant Della had called Donald twelve times and messaged him thirty six times. Donald had been in a college class at the time and so had his phone shut off, but as soon as he turned it back and saw the notifications on his phone he had called her immediately.

After hearing the news and reassuring her that he was on his way to her even though he had to skip his last class of the day, he had rushed to the bus stop and on the way there listened through every voice mail and read every text message she had sent.

One of those messages was a voice message. He had never heard her sound so scared before, or so excited.

He listened to the message, to her voice, as she explained that she was pregnant. The guy she was with was gone (which still angered Donald to this day), but she wanted to keep the child. How she knew she could do it, raise a child, but she didn’t know if she could do it well. At least not alone. She needed to talk to him, have him by her side, because they could do anything together, and she really wanted this to be included in that anything part.

Something wet had bit his leg and Donald realized then that his vision was blurry Wiping his tears and taking a breath he paused the voice message and looked down at the phone as a wave of grief and relief washed over him.

He got Louie’s gift.

Chapter Text

Going back to the birthday party, the whole room had turned silent when Louie read out Della’s name, with Scrooge being the first one to break it as he walked forward and said shakily, “That…that was Della’s?”

Whatever spell that had fallen over the room was broken at the sound of his uncle’s voice and Huey quickly reached over and flipped through the pages of the book.

“All of her notes are in here!” Huey exclaimed as his eyes scanned hungrily over the contents on the page.

“It was originally just supposed to be mine but your mom always had an issue when it came to stealing my stuff,” Donald said dryly.

“Wait, a second let me see something,” Huey said as grabbed the book from Dewey who seemed reluctant to let it go.

Huey turned some pages before he seemed to find what he wanted and a large grin overtook his face as he said excitedly, “Ah hah Mom agreed with me! I always knew the uni knot was better over the palomar knot when it came to tying fishing lines.”

“If you flip to the back you can see some entries she added herself from some of our adventures.”

This seemed to send Huey over the moon as he eagerly went to the back of the book and read over it with wide eyes.

Dewey looked at the book longingly in Huey’s hands before he seemed to realize something and his gaze snapped to Donald, “Wait if Huey got something of Mom's does that mean I…”

Donald nodded and that was all the confirmation Dewey needed as he quickly tore open his gift and gasped in delight at seeing the photo album.

Opening the cover Dewey eyes hurriedly scanned over the images.“She was taking photos while flying a plane AND while fighting monsters. My mom is the coolest!” Dewey exclaimed as he turned to another set of photos.

Scrooge walked over and peered over Dewey’s shoulder chuckling when he saw what was on the page, “O’ I remember that adventure. We had been seeking out the Lost Torch of Hestia, and had gotten trapped in a death trap that threatened to crush us alive! Yer mother had managed to hit the lever by throwing those goggles of hers at it just as the walls were about to smush us.”

Dewey sighed happily as he looked down at whichever photo Scrooge was referring to, “Ah a dramatic rescue just in the nick of time, it’s a classic.”

The mood in the party grew lighter as everyone else huddled in, eager and curious to see what Donald had brought for the triplets.

Donald’s attention however was caught by Louie, who had yet to open his gift and stared down at it in apprehension instead.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a check wrapped up in a really weird way,” Louie joked awkwardly as Donald walked up.

“You don’t have to open it now, if you don’t want to,” Donald told him, cutting past the failed attempt at humor.

“I just…” Louie took a breath, “I mean I’m sure you put a lot of thought into this and not to say I’m not grateful because I love anything that has to do with mom but, I mean can’t I just look at Dewey’s photo album or whatever.”

Donald thought on what Louie said for a bit for he carefully said, “Though the gifts are individually picked out of course their also something you all can enjoy, and I know that you may think there’s nothing else of your mom you would need to know but…I really do think you would like what I got for you.”

Louie was silent, different expressions crossed over his face but eventually he nodded slowly and looked up at Donald.

“I trust you,” Louie said and he unwrapped the gift in his hands, and looked a bit perplexed when he saw Della’s old phone in his hands.

“I set it up so you can open it without a password, click on the files app and it should be the first thing in there,” Donald said and Louie hesitated for a moment before following Donald’s instructions.

“It’s an audio recording?” Louie asked as he laid eyes on the file name and glanced at Donald who only smiled back in return.

“I’ll give you a moment so you can listen to it on your own,” Donald said as turned around and walked back to the rest of the party.

He briefly looked over his shoulder and saw Louie with the phone to his ear listening and Donald let out a sigh of relief at the fact that Louie was at the very least going to give the audio recording a try.

“And you were so worried about what to get them,” came a sudden voice startling Donald who relaxed once he saw it was only Scrooge.

“I do admit it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be, I mean it’s no bag of marbles but nothing can outdo your gifts Uncle Scrooge,” Donald said with a smoke and though his uncle scowled at the comment Donald could also see a smile threatening to show on his face.

“Keep talking like that and I may just drain the water out of the pool,” Scrooge threatened though Donald only laughed knowing that his uncle would never do that.

After all, it would probably cost a bit to have the pool drained.

“I didn’t know you kept all of her stuff,” his uncle said suddenly and Donald’s laughter died out as he saw a sad smile appear on Scrooge’s face.

“Well,” Donald began, “I sort of had to, didn't I? I mean….it was Della’s.”

“It was Della’s,” His uncle repeated sadly, and Donald knew out of anyone in the world Scrooge would understand the most what that statement meant.

Laughter echoed from the group surrounding Huey and Donald considered walking over and checking on him when he felt a force knock into him and he looked down to see the familiar green figure of Louie who had his head buried into Donald’s side.

“She really did love us,” he heard Louie mumble into his shirt and Donald felt a wetness seep into his side. Louie must have finished the recording.

“From the moment she knew she was going to have you,” Donald said softly as he stroked Louie’s hair.

A felt another force hit him and then another and if it wasn’t for his ten years of experience of being tackled by hugs he might have been knocked over.

Though not in the same emotional state as Louie, his other two nephews clung onto him just as tightly and Donald struggled for a bit to hold onto all of them as he wrapped his arms around their shoulders.

“I never knew you and mom went to Antartica-”

“Did you know that Mom earned her fly fishing badge when she was only eight-”

“And how did you guys get past the lasers because from the photo they looked incredibly and awesomely dangerous”

“Thank you Uncle Donald”

Dewey and Huey finally seemed to notice the less enthusiastic Louie as they unstuck themselves from Donald and huddled around Louie instead.

“Is everything okay Louie?” Huey said, taking on the older brother role as he put a hand on Louie’s shoulder.

Louie sniffed and rubbed his nose before sending them a quick smile, “Yeah I’m alright, but you guys definitely need to hear this later.”

Dewey and Huey only seemed confused by the statement but nodded and let the topic drop. Donald took a glance at his phone and winced when he realized there was still an hour left of the party. It was the triplets birthday, and here they were huddled together with one of them crying. It didn’t seem like a right way to end what should be a happy do so although Donald knew he would probably regret it later he clapped his hands together which drew the triplets attention and put on his best smile,

“We technically still got one hour left of your party, why don’t you show me how to play the dart game of doom or whatever it was called.”

His nephews shared a look and Donald could see a mischievous gleam come into their eyes as they ran over to where Webby was talking happily in the corner with Lena and Violet.

“I call Webby’s team!” They cried out and Donald had a feeling that there was more to that statement than simply wanting to be on the same team with their friend, when they stopped next to her and explained the situation with the young girl looking up at Donald and narrowing her eyes at him. Donald had a feeling that in that moment he stopped being a family member and became a target and he realized he was in for a lot of pain in the next hour.
.
.
.
.
As Donald crouched down low behind a bush, peaking out through the branches to see if any of the kids were around to ambush him he couldn’t help but think about how things could be so much easier when it was just him and his nephews alone on the house boat.

The thought came to him when the group split up into teams of adults and children, and though on his team there included a famous adventurer, the luckiest goose in the world, and an actual superhero Donald still got a bad feeling in his gut when he saw the triumphant smiles all the children exchanged.

(It also didn’t help that some of the adults decided to sit out, even though Donald didn’t know exactly what Mrs. Beakley did before coming to work with Scrooge, he knew that whatever it was would probably come in handy when darts started being pelted at him and he barely managed to avoid being declared ‘dead’ in the game.)

Still, as he spotted an opening to the back door of the kitchen and quickly stood up and made a dash for it he thought back to the years before and the simplicity of it all.

After they had cake and opened their gifts he and his nephews used to sit on the floor of the houseboat and play board games or watched a movie as a way to end their birthday. It would be a peaceful affair, and not an all out war game in the back lawn of a trillionaire's mansion.

Donald was almost home free, safe in the comforts of the kitchen when a pink figure leapt over him gracefully and landed in front of him, cocking her toy gun and leveling it at his head.

“Drop the weapon,” Webby said, none of her usual bubbliness coming through as she leveled him with a threatening glare.

Donald gulped and raised his hands in the air, slowly setting the gun down.

“I don’t want to do this, but there is no mercy in war,” the ten year old said as she got ready to pull the trigger. Before she could do so Webby’s eyes had quickly widened as something caught her eye behind Donald and she quickly jumped out of the way, barely avoiding being hit with three styrofoam darts.

“Think yer gonna win against Scrooge McDuck and his team?” came the confident voice of the Scottish billionaire as he easily swept the gun off the ground and handed it back to Donald.

“You do all realize this is just a game right?” Donald said as Scrooge and Webby stared each other down, eyes narrowed and weapons in hand as if it were an actual life or death situation.

Apparently though only Donald held that statement as the rest of the kids and adults seemed to realize there was a show down about to take place between the two groups and soon enough everyone was lined up with serious expressions on their face as they waited for the opposite group to make the first move.

Donald sighed, yes things used to be easier on the houseboat.

He didn’t have his lucky cousin Gladstone at his side looking annoyingly calm despite whatever situation they were going through. Nor did he have a crash prone pilot looking extremely confused at everything going on and a well meaning genius scientist/superhero in his life. And he certainly wouldn’t have allowed his adrenaline junkie of an uncle to be on any sort of team with him, and even now felt a bit unsure as he saw the almost manic gleam in Scrooge’s eye as he surveyed the team across from him.

But as he allowed his gaze to fall onto the children, both the four that were his own, and the two that were not but who he still cared deeply for, he realized that easy and simple had been out of his life since the moment he first laid eyes on Della’s eggs.

And as he gripped his dart gun tightly and got into a fighting stance he knew that in his heart he was extremely glad at how chaotic his life had become, because it led to so many more people entering his heart and becoming family.

And by god did he absolutely adore his family.