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Three in the morning and McDuck manor was still and silent. The majority of the people Scrooge had graciously allowed to stay in the manor were asleep, including the man himself, with the exception of a select few. One of these select few was Della Duck, Scrooge’s thirty-seven year old niece, who sat on the kitchen counter, one of her legs drawn to her chest and the other dangling from the edge as she read.
The radio softly hummed from one corner, not breaking the silence, but instead making it feel cosy and warm. The notebook and pen that sat to one side of Della was accompanied by a quickly cooling mug of hot chocolate. Both were untouched, and she didn’t even look up when a set of heavy, muffled footsteps approached the closed kitchen door, and barely acknowledged when it swung open to reveal an unusually sleep-ruffled Penumbra, who was sleepily dragging herself to the kettle before she carried it over to the sink.
“I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either,” Penumbra mumbled, sounding the least robotic Della had heard her since the moonlanders had made their invasion attempt.
Della smiled tiredly, finally looking up from her book to address Penni. “Nope, gotta love nightmares. The feelings they bring up are real great at making me not sleep.”
“What nightmares and what feelings?” Penni inquired as she sat the kettle on its metal rotation base with a dull thud and set the water boiling. Its whistling broke the silence, but not the awkward tension that had settled between the two.
“Just being back on the moon, the loneliness and guilt I felt before I met you… I never want to be back there, but my brain is a bitch so I’m back there every night. It’s fine… Just a little jarring… Makes sleep difficult,” Della closed her eyes and sighed, before opening them and staring at the cold floor, inches below where she sat. “Don’t tell anyone. As far as they know, I’m still the same old Della; sans a leg, with longer hair, and a tad more experience. Anyways, what about you? You’re as awake as I am.”
“Who would I tell? The majority of people here are either more eager to hear about the Moon or still have a lot of mistrust for me, not that it isn’t justified,” Penumbra collected a mug and a tin of instant hot chocolate mix from a set of cupboards above the kettle as she talked before placing them on the counter and turning to Della. “And my own consciousness has, similarly to yours, taken to reminding me of my own guilt. As much as the planet Moon was my home before you, now I know all the wonders of Earth are as true as you say and now that the Moon has become full of memories I’d much rather forget, it isn’t my home anymore, although some part of me thinks maybe it should be. And let’s be honest, the circumstances I left in weren’t ideal.”
There was a pause before the kettle whistled, breaking the tension that had been slowly growing throughout the couple’s conversation. Penni turned and busied herself with preparing her hot chocolate, similar to Della’s, and Della tried to stick her head back in her book.
It took five minutes of uncomfortable silence, the radio playing quietly in the background, before Della broke the silence once again, having read the same paragraph five times without processing its contents.
“Ugggggghhhhhhh,” She groaned, collapsing on the counter dramatically. “Penni, I’m boooooooorrrrrrrrrred.”
Penni ignored Della’s display and turned to lean on the coffee counter, sipping her hot chocolate thoughtfully.
“Penniiiiiii,” Della whined after a pause, slamming her book shut before jumping down from her perch and tossing it on the counter. “We should do something.”
Penni blinked, startled out of screen-saver mode, before tilting her head slightly. “What do you suggest?”
As if on cue, the soft music that had been delicately drifting around the kitchen faded out and the radio DJ announced the next song, a sappy slow love song that had been popular some ten years ago. Della lit up and started humming, swaying along with the melody and gently carrying herself towards Penumbra before stopping in front of her. She held her hand out to her and smiled softly.
“Dance with me?”
Penni almost reached for Della’s outstretched hand, but quickly stopped herself, looking at the duck with a wrinkled brow.
“What’s wrong Penni?”
“I- I cannot dance,” Penni admitted, looking away. “We didn’t dance on Planet Moon. I only learned what dance was when one of your offspring introduced me to it.”
“That’s okay, I can teach you,” Della paused for a moment. “Well, unless one of the boys taught you to when they told you what it is.”
There was another pause. Then Penumbra set her mug down on the counter and offered her hand for Della to take, allowing herself to be pulled neatly and gently to her dance partner’s chest.
“That would be acceptable.”
“Glad to hear it,” Della smiled, before starting her instruction. “Okay, so I might not have this down as an exact art, but my right hand goes on your back, here, your right hangs onto my shoulder, here.”
Della and Penni arranged their hands with Della’s instruction, and soon they were standing in the outside left position, close enough to kiss had either of them worked up the courage.
“Ready?” Della asked after a second of awkward silence.
Penni gave a soft smile she reserved for Della alone. “Indeed.”
“Just follow me, okay?”
“Okay.” And the couple took off, rising and falling with the rhythm of the music as they spun around the kitchen softly.
As they danced, something in Della settled slightly. The empty cavern left in her chest that’d been keeping her awake slowly calmed its flare and, as the Duck twin gazed at Penni, filled with a hurricane she’d only felt twice before. Her heart spun with the duo and Della couldn’t help but admire the moonlander in the golden-white kitchen lights, the way it caught on her sleep-ruffled hair, the periwinkle flush in her cheeks from exertion and adrenaline, and her focused frown as she concentrated on following Della without stepping on her in her oversized pyjamas.
Meanwhile Penni’s heart stuttered in her chest as she focused on Della’s graceful footwork, trying to ignore the fact that her dance partner was only in shorts and a vest top, any sign of her jacket, warm long-sleeved shirt, practical brown shorts, or signature blue scarf left in her room.
It was all too soon when the song ended, leaving Della and Penni standing close in the silence, staring at each other as the room filled with a new type of tension that neither of them felt like they could break. Then the moment was gone. The DJ on the radio started loudly announcing another song and Della was shaken out of her haze. She quickly shook her head and let go of Penni, stepping away before playfully bowing to her dance partner.
“Thank you for the dance, m’lady,” She giggled, looking up at Penni from her 90˚ bow.
Penni rolled her eyes affectionately and went back to leaning on the counter next to the kettle, focusing on her now cold drink. Della huffed a laugh at the response and hopped back onto the counter she’d been sitting on, picking up her book so she could attempt to regain her focus.
The words still floated on the page, and this time it took three minutes for someone to break the new wave of silence, or at least Penni tried to before being interrupted by an exhausted Donald ambling into the kitchen, breaking the tension with the smoothness of a knife.
“Della, Penni,” He rasped, stumbling towards the counter Penni was leaning against, prompting her to shuffle aside to allow him room to check and then boil the kettle.
“Heya, Don,” Della yawned in response, putting down the book and stretching her arms above her head. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I’m not,” Donald responded grumpily. “I’ve got work.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Donald tapped his feet on the tiles of the kitchen floor as he waited for the kettle, leaning on the counter next to Penni. “From your question, I’m assuming you haven’t gone to sleep yet. You should probably go to bed, Dell, last time you didn’t sleep all night you crashed the plane.”
Della rolled her eyes. “I’m not flying today, Don,” She paused and looked down, frowning softly. “I don’t even have my Joyrider anymore.”
Della shook her head and took a steadying breath, quickly regaining her composure before configuring her face back into a bright smile.
“Not flying doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep,” Donald sighed, turning around to the kettle just as it whistled and taking out a mug and the instant coffee he’d stashed at the back of the cupboard.
“Eh, you’re right, but I’m still staying up,” Della crossed her arms.
“Whatever, your funeral.”
Della stuck her tongue out at her twin as he finished making his coffee and strolled out of the room, leaving the gaping silence hovering once again.
Penni considered her options for a few minutes before opening her mouth once again, ready to say something even if she wasn't sure what, before she was once again interrupted. This time it was by Della hopping down from her perch, smiling sheepishly at Penni.
“Look, maybe Don’s right, it might be my funeral if I don’t go to bed, and I can’t let that happen,” She put up fingerguns as she backed up towards the kitchen door. “Night Penni!”
Then the door swung and Della was gone, leaving Penni with a weird aching in her chest she’d never felt before. She resigned herself to a lack of sleep that night.