Work Text:
Lena had to restrain themself from gagging. The reaction was so severe and so sudden that they had a hard time not groaning and dipping their head in complaint. They crossed their arms and didn’t say a word.
Donald, for his part, looked confused. "Was it something I said? Do you not want the party?"
It was a bit late to cancel the party that had already begun downstairs, but they could tell by his tone that he was genuinely concerned. That was still something they had to get used to. While Webby had been a good 'introductory course' to dealing with people caring about them, they were still miles away from being entirely at east with that fact. Their concern and caring made them uneasy sometimes still, despite their best efforts.
But back to the topic at hand, the party wasn't really what bothered them. They'd never had a birthday party before and Webby was quick to fix that. Even though they didn't quite have an age to assign to Lena, they still went all out and decorated one of the living rooms with all of the party stuff Scrooge would let Webby and the boys buy. (It was... a surprisingly large amount of decorations. They tried not to think too hard about that.)
No, the trouble was more with certain... terminology that some of the decorations had resulted in.
Birthday girl.
The phrase made their stomach turn and made shame swell in their chest. They couldn't be the birthday girl if they weren't a girl, and that was quite the simple fact. What wasn't simple was the fact that no one else knew. Not even Webby.
And boy did that make them angry at themself. Webby, who had told them she was trans very early on in their friendship. Webby, who had been so anxious when she was normally so--sure of herself. Webby who had trusted them.
And there they were, too afraid to tell her, holed up in the upstairs bathroom while Donald sat across from them on the tile floor.
They knew she would understand--they all would--but they were just so bad at getting stuck in their thoughts, unable to come out of them alone. Being with Magica for so long hadn't exactly lead to the healthiest of coping mechanisms. They just... had to sit and grin and bear it, right?
"The party's fine." They shrugged, which was true enough. It was a bit overwhelming, but it was a good experience at least. They didn't not want a party, at least. "It's just... I dunno. A bit much?" They raised a brow as they tried to muster up enough attitude to shrug off his worry. They would rather be seen as ungrateful--untouchable--than sad, weak, or afraid.
Magica de Spell's A+ Parenting.
Donald laughed gently and nodded. He seemed perfectly at home, sat on the tile with his back against the sink counter. They wondered how many times he had talked to people like that; people who were strung out, or sad, or overwhelmed. They wondered how many times it had been him on their end.
"Yeah, that's how it is around here, isn't it?" He smiled wistfully, and they fought not to smile too. "I'm sure they'd understand if you wanted to tone it down. We could take down the decorations, or we could cancel it altogether." He shrugged, "The point of it was to make you feel welcomed. If you don't, there isn't much of a point, is there?"
And that, of course, was an excellent point. They hadn't even considered that. Of course the party was for them, and was meant to make them happy. It was such an obvious fact that they felt embarrassed that they had missed it. Webby had wanted them to have something they hadn't before, and everyone had enthusiastically agreed.
They felt more.. confident. Of course it would be okay, in the end. That's how it was with the McDucks, wasn't it? Maybe getting there would be tough. But they would be okay.
They opened their mouth and quickly closed it again.
All that being said... This was harder than just saying they were overwhelmed. This was--Something else. They weren't quite sure what else, but it was a topic that even Webby had a hard time with. They were terrified about what it meant for them.
They sighed and wrapped their arms around their knees. "I just feel... Weird about it."
"How so?" Lena wanted to bang their head against the wall when Donald asked, "What feels weird?"
"I don't know." They sneered, their anger obviously with a bite of fear to it, "I don't like it. That's all."
They looked away and stared intently at the wall. They wanted to go back to bed and pretend the whole day didn't have to happen.
Donald only hummed at their outburst. "You're scared. What's scaring you?"
What did they even say to that? Gender? Gender was scaring them? Having everyone assume their identity scared them? The idea that the family might laugh at them, find them ridiculous, not understand them scared them? Lena did not have a fear of being rejected.
(No, they totally did. Absolutely.)
The crawly, itchy, disgusting feeling came back as they made a face at the thought. Gender was, in a word, gross. At least when applied to them. They didn't have a gender, they didn't want one, they wanted everyone to just stop... stop...
"Lena," Donald's voice was closer. They screwed their eyes shut and buried their head in their knees. They absolutely were not going to cry over being called a girl. "Lena, whatever is wrong, I can help. Or I can try. Or I can learn."
When they didn't respond Donald sat so that their shoulders touched. "Say the word and I'll cancel the party. You can take the whole cake to your room, if you want! Don't tell the kids I told you that."
That got a huff out of them, at least. Upset or not, chocolate cake was always tempting.
"I don't want to cancel the party." They sighed and picked their head back up. They both pretended Lena didn't wipe at their eyes before they spoke again. "I... Can we take down one of the decorations, though?"
Donald blinked in surprise and nodded. "Of course. Whatever you're comfortable with. Listen, Lena, nothing's too silly if it really bothers you. I've taught the boys that all their lives, and they taught Webby. If something bothers you we'll work together to fix it." He wrapped an arm around their shoulders gently and they leaned into it. "What's bothering you?"
They sighed one last time and crossed their arms against their chest. "It's not a big deal, I just think some of the decorations are stupid."
"Language," He warned (and they may have forgotten some words were banned in the house, but it still applied) "Which ones?"
They looked away as another wave of emotion threatened to take hold of them. When they had been with Magica they had never been so emotional.
(They were traumatized and showing emotion was a good sign.)
"The balloons." The didn't offer anything else and shut their eyes. Those f-reaking balloons, whose bright pink color mocked them. They liked the color pink--more so now than ever--but it just... didn't work. They hadn't even considered such a thing to be a potential problem when they heard Webby talk about the party. They had thought that gender specific decorations were more of a baby thing, not an unknown-age-but-probably-teenager thing.
Not that they blamed Webby. They would never--could never--blame Webby.
Donald pulled them close and gently shushed their sniffles. After a moment Lena turned and rested their head on his shoulder, utterly exhausted and defeated. "The 'birthday girl' decorations."
They felt him exhale a slow breath before he nuzzled his beak against the top of their head.
"Feel free to stop me if I'm wrong, but I think you're going through something a few others I know have gone through. You know Webby was one of them."
They felt a shock of surprise as he said it. Sure they had likened their experience to what they could understand of Webby's, but to hear someone else say it was. Weird.
"There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling." He continued, "Sometimes we don't match up with what society tells us to be. You're the least surprising person to fit that description." When they laughed, watery and hesitant, he continued. "And that's okay. Just tell us. We want to help you be happy, Lena. We're family, and that's what family is supposed to do."
They nodded and sniffled again. "Okay."
He wrapped both arms around them. "We love you, Lena. You're one of the kids just like the others, and we want to support you no matter what."
Lena was quiet for a moment as they pondered that. It was obvious that Donald meant it, and it definitely wasn't the first time he'd said something of the kind to anyone. That was comforting, as much as they wouldn't admit it. It was a good sign. And maybe it would be a good thing to have Donald in their corner.
"I'm not a girl." They admitted to him, really the first time they'd admitted it for real, "I don't... I don't get gender at all. I don't have one. And I don't like people saying I do."
"That's understandable." He hugged them tighter, "We can tell the others, and they won't do it again. No one will. If they do, you'll never hear from them again."
"Uhhh, okay. That got a little dark." They joked, but they got the point. He meant it.
"So, how about we go downstairs, pop some balloons, and eat some cake?" He pulled back and grinned at them, as if his plan all along had been getting to the cake. "We'll just swing in and say 'Lena wants to return their gender. All other presents are acceptable.'"
They snorted at that and grinned. "We're definitely not going to say that. I have standards." They allowed Donald to pull them to their feet and wrap them in another hug. Their heart had leapt at the casual use of pronouns and they realized that this was actually going to happen. No more gender, no more girl, no more anything they didn't feel they wanted. It was within reach.
"Fine." Donald said as they left the bathroom, "How do you want to do this, then?"
"Hell if I know." They said, this time just to get a rise out of him, "You can see how well my first try went."
"All things considered, pretty well." He admitted as he fixed a few stray hairs on their head. "You know, I told everyone for someone I know who didn't want to. And when I came out as pansexual I told everyone individually. You don't have to tackle this as one big problem."
They noted the casual way he threw his identity in and didn't even blink. That made more sense than most things had in the past hour, in all honesty.
So, what did they want to do? Telling everyone at once... Well, he was right. That was definitely too much for them. Luckily, though, they had an ace up their sleeve.
"I want to tell Webby."
Within ten minutes there wasn't a single pink decoration left in site, much less ones that even hinted at the word 'girl'. The others quirked their brows but didn't say a word as Webby went around and collected everything that she deemed unworthy.
Lena had taken her to the side as soon as they and Donald had made it to the living room. It had been awkward as they tried to tell their best friend how they felt without seeming ungrateful for her hard work, but Webby had understood. Lena had to physically stop her from making a blood vow to never misgender her friend again (because that had seemed like a cool way to do it), but that had been the extent of how bad it went.
And the others, well, they hadn't told them yet, but they were all pretty good at rolling with the punches. Louie remarked that it looked less like a six year old's princess party, and Lena gladly agreed with him.
With all of that out of the way Lena was left only to worry about presents and cake for the time being. They tried to ignore how Donald politely and quietly ushered the other adults out of the room one by one, but even as sure as they were it was stressful.
Finally, as everyone crawled through eating their third or fourth slices of cake, Lena managed to relax against their chair at the table. Around them the others--their family--laughed and joked. Or, in Dewey's case, almost fell asleep in the cake. All in all, it was a pretty good party. Definitely one they would never forget.
It was only much later--well past bedtime--that they remembered the adults now knew about their situation. When Beakley beckoned for them to stay behind as the others drifted upstairs to bed, they felt their heart hammer in their chest. It was fine. It was okay. It had to be.
And of course, it was.
"We're proud of ya, Lena." Scrooge ruffled their hair, which made them groan and bat his hand away. "You can come to us with anythin'."
"You're super cool, Leens!" Launchpad had to be part of the conversation, and he shot them a grin and a thumbs-up.
Beakley agreed. "Yes. And onto the more practical side of the matter, what needs to change?"
Lena cocked their head to the side and frowned. "What do you mean?"
They hadn't really expected much to change, but then again they hadn't thought about it. Donald had said no one would call them a girl, and that... Seemed like a lot. What else was there?
"Pronouns." Beakley started, "Gendered language. Wardrobe. Your name." She listed those things on her fingers and Lena realized maybe there was a bit more to it.
"They and them, I think." They started, "Or any, really. They don't really bother me. I don't like being called a girl, or anything like that. I don't know about anything else. I like my style, and my name."
The adults nodded, and Scrooge spoke again. "Anything you don't know, we'll just hafta learn as we go. Just tell us when anything changes, okay?"
Lena smiled for what felt like the millionth time that night, and for once that wasn't an exhausting thought. They still had to tell the boys, they were sure Webby had a million questions, they had more questions than answers themself, and they still knew that their gender wouldn't magically not be a problem in a day.
Still, they were... a lot further than they were before. They were happier. They were more comfortable. They were safer.
"Sure," They promised, and found they really meant it, "No problem."
It was the least they could do.