Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Louie glared angrily up at the slowly brightening sky, thinking that if he projected enough of his extreme irritation out at the universe, maybe the time of day would change to something more manageable. It was an odd thing to hope for, but stranger things had happened. Stranger things were happening right now.

“Pick up the pace, Lou!” Dewey called back to him in an unsettlingly loud whisper, still holding onto his wrist and tugging him along down the path outside the mansion. He hadn’t let go of him since he’d dragged him out of bed somewhere around five minutes ago with the promise that he wouldn’t regret it. “We’re in a bit of a time crunch, here.”

“The sun isn’t even up, Dewey,” Louie said, annoyed, using his free hand to gesture at their surroundings. “If there’s something that needs to happen this early, in no universe should it have anything to do with me.”

Dewey just snickered at him and tossed him a short grin over his shoulder. “Even the universe makes exceptions.”

“Wow,” Louie said flatly. “Where’d you get that one?”

“Something Webby said,” Dewey answered, pausing to chuckle as Louie tripped over a loose pebble and huffed. “I think she was quoting something, but I dunno for sure.”

“No one ever does,” Louie said, and then he sighed heavily, glancing towards where the tip of the sun was just beginning to show. “Really, though, why does whatever this is have to be now?”

“Less chance of getting caught.”

Louie’s eyes widened in mild surprise. “Are we sneaking out right now?”                                                                                                                                          

Dewey just grinned, and despite himself, Louie huffed a little laugh.

“Huey’s gonna flip, you know,” Louie said amusedly. “He says the two of us alone together are practically a disaster magnet.”

“More like fun magnet,” Dewey said stubbornly, and Louie rolled his eyes with a smile. “And besides, Huey’s already at the plane.”

Louie almost choked on air. “He’s at the what now?”

“The plane,” Dewey said, excitement in his voice, along with something teasing. “You haven’t figured out where we’re going by now? You’ve lost your touch.”

“It’s early,” Louie shot back. “Give me a break.”

“That’s the plan,” Dewey said mysteriously, and Louie narrowed his eyes at his brothers back.

Before he could ask any further questions – such as ‘where are we going?’ or ‘does anyone know about this?’ or ‘have you lost your mind?’ – they arrived at the open entrance to the Sunchaser, and Dewey finally let go of his wrist for the sole purpose of spin around and giving him a bow and a grin, sweeping his arm out to the side as if presenting the plane to him.

“Your chariot awaits,” Dewey said grandly, and Louie just blinked at him.

“You do realize that nothing good ever came from stealing an aircraft, right?” Louie asked.

“Yeah, well,” Dewey said, tilting his head back to glance at the plane. “This one’s not going to space.”

Louie huffed a laugh, slowly making his way past Dewey and onto the ramp. “You know better than to say that with confidence.”

Huey was waiting for them at the top of the ramp, three backpacks packed and waiting in a heap behind him. He was smiling.

“I’m surprised you got him here this quickly,” Huey told Dewey, sending a teasing glance Louie’s way. “I’d guessed it’d be three more minutes before you made it.”

“Have a little faith, Hue,” Dewey said, clapping their older brother on the shoulder as he walked past. “My skills are beyond your understanding.”

Huey rolled his eyes as Dewey continued further into the plane, presumably getting ready for takeoff. He’d been taking his lessons more seriously, lately, and even Louie could admit that he’d gotten good. If they really were leaving, he trusted him to get them there safely. He’d be back in bed already if he didn’t.

“He dragged me here against my will,” Louie said, just to set the record straight. Dewey wasn’t a miracle worker, but he had a strong grip, and Louie hadn’t really fought it.

“He didn’t even tell you where we were going, did he?” Huey asked, amusement clear in his voice.

“He said it was a surprise.”

Huey chuckled and shook his head hopelessly, beckoning Louie inside. “I guess it is.”

They climbed up to the second level via the ladder, and Dewey glanced back at them from where he was hitting buttons and flipping switches.

“Almost ready,” he said, hitting a button and turning back to watch as the plane hatch closed. Then he looked at Huey with a secret smile. “Did you tell him yet?”

Huey opened his mouth to respond, but Louie beat him to it.

“No,” Louie grumbled, crossing his arms. “He hasn’t.”

“Why don’t you try to figure it out?” Huey suggested, grinning softly at him and sharing a look with Dewey. “If you really can’t, then we’ll tell you.”

Louie sighed greatly, perhaps more dramatic than was strictly necessary, but he still turned away from them to look for any clues they might’ve left. Immediately, his eyes landed on something bright and colorful, attached to long sticks.

Hobo bindles?

Next to them were several cans, stacked together on the ground. He narrowed his eyes.

Cans of beans?

With mild shock and fragile hope growing in his chest, he turned back to look at his brothers, who were smiling back at him with a knowing look in their eyes.

A carefree attitude?

…

No way.

“Are we— You— We’re going—?” Louie couldn’t seem to pick something to say, but thankfully they understood him anyway.

“Yep,” Dewey laughed, grinning at him, wide and happy. “Get ready to have your wildest dreams come true!”

Louie bounced his gaze between his older brothers with wide eyes, searching for any sign of deception of exaggeration. Finding none, his jaw dropped.

“Big Rock Candy Mountain?” Louie asked, somewhere between disbelieving and choked up.

Huey nodded. “Where there’s Cherry Pep springs and the conman sings!”

“Where the gold geyser spews cash just for you’s!” Dewey piped up.

“Where all your laziest, schemiest dreams come true!” They said together, dissolving into laughter right after.

Louie watched them laugh, feeling emotion well up in his throat and excitement build in his stomach.

“But you— you’ve already been,” Louie said. “Why—”

“Not with you,” Huey interrupted, stepping forward to set his hand on Louie’s shoulder. “And something tells me that this time will be even better.”

Slowly, Louie smiled, letting out a shocked, happy laugh. Huey’s own smile got wider.

“Bet you’re glad I dragged you out of bed, huh?” Dewey asked, teasing.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Louie said, feeling light and carefree.

“Don’t tempt me,” Dewey shot back lightheartedly, and then he turned back to the plane controls. “Ready for takeoff?”

Huey and Louie sat side by side in the copilots seat, and outside the sun was painting the sky in oranges and pinks. Louie was glad he hadn’t missed it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Ready.”

Chapter Text

“We almost died today, and now we’re playing board games?” Despite her words, Gosalyn’s voice didn’t sound baffled or confused. It was more of a slightly amused acknowledgment of how weird their lives were. Across the table, Louie snorted.

“Yeah, welcome to my world,” he said, picking up the green game piece as soon as Huey opened the box.

“It’s always like this, huh?” Gosalyn cracked a smile as Dewey threw her the purple game piece. She gave him a wry look, to which he smiled grinned and winked. She rolled her eyes.

“Not always,” Webby chimed in, helping Huey set up the game. “Sometimes we watch a movie.”

Gosalyn tossed her game piece up in the air and caught it, chuckling a little as Louie sighed deeply. She hadn’t been a part of their little group for long, but it was easy to tell that Louie wasn’t really the type to chase adventures. Which she understood, of course, because more often than not, the adventures ended up chasing him. And as he’d loudly proclaimed several times that afternoon as they ran from vaguely sentient slime monsters, Louie hated running.

But he’d done it, and so had everyone else, with Dewey cheering loudly and giggling alongside an excited Webby, who was already talking about adding more to her journal when they got home. Lena had been using her magic rapid-fire, only succeeding in breaking the slime monsters into smaller versions of themselves, and Huey had been screeching something or other from the little book he kept in his hat. Gosalyn remembered laughing, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she realized that there was no where else she’d rather be.

“Literally anything would be relaxing in comparison to almost dying,” Louie grumbled, and Huey absentmindedly pat his shoulder.

“We never actually die, though,” Dewey pointed out, poking Louie playfully in the beak. Gosalyn barely held back her laugh at the scowl on his face.

“This may sound weird to you,” Louie said slowly, pushing Dewey’s hand away from his face, “but my standards are a little higher than that.”

“I’d have to agree with him there,” Gosalyn said, letting her chin drop into her hand as she grinned lazily at Dewey. “Staying alive seems like a reasonable goal to have.”

“Thanks,” Louie said flatly, putting his piece on the game board as Huey and Webby finally finished setting it up. “Your support means the world to me.”

“Glad I could help,” Gosalyn shot back, smiling as Louie rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

They all put their game pieces on the board, bickering and teasing each other the whole time, Huey having to take a short walk when Dewey launched his piece across the room. Eventually, though, they all got settled, and Huey started reading through the rules.

“We need to have partners for this one,” Huey said, tossing the paper back into the empty box. “Who wants to—”

“I’m on Webby’s team,” Lena said immediately, grinning a sideways smile as Webby giggled.

“Okay, so—”

“How ‘bout me and you?” Gosalyn suggested, shooting a half-smile in Louie’s direction. He raised an eyebrow. “We can be the ‘staying alive’ club.”

Louie let out what seemed like a startled laugh, but he shrugged and nodded.

“Let’s hope that doesn’t age too badly,” Louie said sarcastically, and Gosalyn had to agree.

“This is actually unfair,” Dewey said, but he sounded more amused than anything. “You two together are going to win in like three minutes flat.”

“Scared of a challenge?” she asked him, grinning sharply, and Dewey let out a dramatized offended gasp.

“Me?” Dewey said incredulously. “Never!”

“Prove it!”

The six of them played the game multiple times over the next few hours, and Louie and Gosalyn won each time.

Unsurprisingly, they were banned from being on a team together ever again.

Chapter Text

On comfortably cool nights, Donald slept with the windows open. It was a habit he’d gotten into back at the marina, when every now and then they didn’t have the money for the electricity to keep the fans running. There was always a breeze, then, and it had carried with it the sounds of birds singing and fishermen casting their fishing rods and people faintly laughing or yelling on another boat not too far away. He got used to those sounds, and he’d learned how to tune them out, but the one thing that always woke him up – without fail – was the sound of his kids’ footsteps. 

Or the sound of them crying.

Which was why he was awake in a heartbeat when he heard soft sniffles trailing through the open window and into his consciousness. He sat up in his hammock, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to place which one of his boys it was. He couldn’t pinpoint it, which meant that it wasn’t one of his boys, and that had to mean that it was—

He poked his head out of the open window, looking around the dimly lit pool area until he saw her, sitting at the edge with her feet in the water and her arms wrapped loosely around her torso in a poor imitation of a hug.

Webby.

Donald was out of his room and on the deck of the houseboat before he even fully thought about it, not hesitating for a single second. Della had always teased him about being a mother hen.

Webby didn’t look up at him, even when he came to a stop at the railing of the boat, looking down at her worriedly. For someone as well-trained and normally very aware as she was, it was concerning that she didn’t seem to notice that he was there.

“Hey,” he called out gently, making sure he was loud enough to be heard but soft enough not to startle.

She jumped a bit anyway, despite his efforts, and she tilted her head back to look up at him in surprise. As soon as she met his eyes, hers widened minutely and she set about frantically wiping at the tears on her face, and something in Donald’s chest cracked.

(The same something that ached on every birthday the triplets celebrated. The same something that swelled and danced when they’d given him father’s day cards for the first time. The same something that burned and shook when someone he loved was in danger.)

Quietly and with a mission in mind, he climbed out of the boat and dropped down to the edge of the pool below, waiting a moment before sitting down next to the distraught girl. She slowly pulled her feet out of the water and hugged her knees to her chest, saying nothing. Donald furrowed his brow.

“Do you feel like telling me what’s wrong?” he asked kindly, careful not to touch her until she initiated it.

Webby shrugged a bit jerkily, a strained smile appearing on her face as she glanced at him, not quite meeting his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Webby said in a slightly wavering voice, and Donald just blinked. “I just— I just couldn’t sleep. It happens when I get restless, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Donald had raised triplets for the past ten years. He did nothing but worry.

“Okay,” Donald said, leaning back a bit and settling in. “Do you want to tell me about what’s not wrong?”

She looked up at him in apparent confusion, finally meeting his eyes, and Donald smiled gently.

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about something else,” Donald explained, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “When Huey’s upset, he talks about his favorite parts of the JWG. When Dewey’s upset, he talks about his favorite constellations, or adventures he wants to go on. And when Louie’s upset, he tells me about his day, or Ottoman Empire, or the things he’s noticed that no one else has.”

Webby blinked at him, letting her knees fall down a bit as she uncurled from her defensive position.

“Do they ever tell you what’s wrong?” she asked, a bit of concern creeping into her voice.

“Sometimes,” he said, nodding slightly, “but sometimes they don’t, and that’s okay, too.”

“So they just… talk? About whatever they want?” Webby asked, shifting so that she was sitting cross-legged.

“Yep,” Donald said lightly. “And sometimes nothing at all, if they feel like being quiet.”

Webby fell silent for a moment, looking out at the pool, lit from beneath by submerged lights. She sighed.

“Don’t you have to go back to sleep?” she asked him, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “I don’t wanna— I don’t—”

“I’d rather be here,” Donald said truthfully, letting his feet slowly move back and forth in the water. “And we can talk about whatever you want.”

That finally got the girl beside him to crack a smile. It was small and a bit unsure, but still there. Donald smiled back, gently bumping her shoulder with his own.

“Okay,” Webby said, letting her feet dangle back into the water as she straightened up.

She glanced at him somewhat shyly, and he nodded in encouragement.

She started talking. Slowly at first, pausing to make sure he didn’t seem impatient before continuing, but as the minutes passed she gained more confidence, until she was laughing at Donald’s jokes and telling him about how she grew up and what her favorite weapons were.

Eventually, she fell asleep on his shoulder and he carried her up to bed, tucking her in with practiced gentleness.

A few days later, a friendship bracelet appeared on his pillow.

He never took it off.

Chapter Text

Louie stood still in the dimly lit hallway, breathing hard and glaring at the figure standing a few scant feet in front of him. His hands were clenched in helpless fists, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve something like this.

“You said you were on my side,” Louie said, accusation thick in his voice, demanding that the recipient of his harsh words gave him an answer. “We were supposed to work together.”

“Things don’t always work out the way you want them to, Louie,” the figure said, voice low and steady, maybe even gleeful. “Sometimes the rules change.”

“You’re the one who changed the rules,” Louie shot back, irritated. “Don’t act like this was out of our control.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same to me.”

Well, he had him there.

Louie crossed his arms best he could with the object in his hand. “Just do it already, then.”

“Why? I’m having fun.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Webby too much,” Louie grumbled, fondly remembering the days where games weren’t terrifying and rife with psychological warfare. “It’s darts. Just shoot me so I can go back to watching Ottoman Empire.”

Across from him, Dewey rolled his eyes and grinned, lifting his dart gun a bit from where its aim had drifted toward the floor.

“I’ve been hanging out with Webby exactly the right amount if you couldn’t even see this coming,” Dewey said lightly, then he narrowed his eyes at him. “Unless you did and you’ve got some backup double-cross planned.”

“Believe it or not, I really thought we were just playing teams this time,” Louie drawled, dropping his empty dart gun to the floor without fanfare. “I didn’t expect my own brother to turn against me. Who are you working for?”

“My goals are beyond your understanding,” Dewey said dramatically.

“It’s Webby and Lena, isn’t it.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

Louie sighed and turned around, planning on making his way to the living room to watch some TV. He graciously ignored the dart that hit his back before he turned the corner, already plotting how to get revenge next time. Two could play at this game, and certainly not as a team.

Chapter Text

It was only fitting that it would be raining when Louie ran away from home. Because why would things be easy? Why should he get to be dry as he wandered aimlessly through the streets of Duckburg? Why should he get to be anything other than miserable?

He laughed sharply to himself, his shaking hands shoved deeply into the pocket of his hoodie, soaked-through and cold. He had his hood pulled over his head, but it had been a while since it’d been of any use. He supposed the same could be said about himself.

Louie hunched in on himself when a car went speeding by, going faster than was strictly needed, in this weather. Water traveled through the air in an arc, kicked up by the tires that had come and gone with not a thought to his predicament, and Louie couldn’t help his flinch as the cold and dirty rainwater splashed against his right side. Irritation sparked somewhere in the mess of guilt and dejection tangled in his chest. He was already wet and tired and alone, and that had just added insult to injury.

There was no one else on the sidewalk with him, and besides the car that had just made his terrible day even worse, there was no one in the street, either. He was by himself, with the memories of the day’s events playing on a loop in his head, from his failure of a scheme to his disappointed family members, to crawling out the window and sneaking away, hoping that no one would bother to wonder where he was. The problem that he had now, however, was that he didn’t really know where he was going. He was standing still in a puddle on the side of the road, soaked to the bone, and he had nowhere to go. Everyone he knew would turn him in to his family in two seconds flat if he turned up at their door looking like he did, and he wasn’t ready to go back yet.

Well, actually, there was someone who might hold off on snitching. There was someone who understood him, maybe better than any other adult in his life. And he just so happened to know that she was in town.

A new plan forming in his sluggish mind, he looked up from the ground to try and make sense of his surroundings, squinting as if that would help him see in the dark and rain. There wasn’t much to go off of, but he was sharp enough to gather that he was near the edge of the city. (Too sharp, a part of him whispered. Too likely to hurt.)

Goldie was less than two blocks away. He wondered if he’d been heading that way subconsciously, but didn’t really have the energy to think too much about it. He just sighed and kept walking, hoping that she hadn’t left yet, and that she wouldn’t mind a fellow outcast hanging around for a while. It wasn’t like he had anything for her to steal.

It was raining even harder by the time Louie made it to the apartment complex Goldie was supposedly staying in, and he pulled his hood further over his face until he made it under the cover of the overhang, forcing his tired legs to carry him up the stairs to what he hoped was the correct door.

He just stood there for a minute in silence, breathing hard and dripping water all over the place, trying to gather the courage to knock. He wasn’t ready to have to explain himself. He wasn’t ready to admit that it had all been his fault. He wasn’t ready to fall apart. (He never was.)

Mostly stalling for time, he slowly pulled the hood off his head, wincing as it smacked heavily against his back. He hadn’t felt this physically uncomfortable in a long time, not since the winter when he was eight when they didn’t have the money for heating. He’d been cold then, just as he was now, but he hadn’t been lonely. He missed it.

The door in front of him swung open suddenly, and he jumped about a mile in the air, his heart leaping into his throat and choking the startled cry that had started to grow there. He wouldn’t have to knock after all.

“Wha— Sharpie?”

Louie looked up at Goldie with wide, tired eyes, and she stared back at him in shock, one hand gripping the doorknob and the other hovering near her pocket, where she no doubt had some sort of weapon. Her eyes quickly checked him over, taking in how absolutely awful he looked, and then they darted up to scan their surroundings, perhaps thinking that someone was chasing him. Louie just let her look, not quite ready to tell her that no one was coming.

“Hi,” said Louie, wincing at how small and unsure his voice sounded. Her gaze snapped back down to his, her beak twisted into a faint frown. He cleared his throat, looking at everything but her, noting the paint peeling off the wall near the window. “Can— Can I stay here? Please.”

There was silence for a moment, and he risked a peek up at her, beginning to shiver. A knot of trepidation twisted itself into his stomach as the silence dragged on, leaving him to stand there with the pouring rain at his back and hope that she didn’t think this was a con.

“I can’t go home,” he said eventually, pushing his hands back into his hoodie pocket and trying to keep his words steady. “And I can’t go to anyone who will make me.”

There was only a soft sigh in response, and the creaking of the heavy door moving on old hinges. When he looked up, there was a sad sort of almost-smile on Goldie’s face, and she stepped aside to make room for him to walk into the apartment.

“Get in here,” Goldie said, simultaneously stern and gentle. “And don’t drip water on my carpet.”

Despite himself, Louie smiled a bit, relief blooming fast and strong in his chest. He trudged through the door, trying to calm himself with a few deep breaths as Goldie closed it behind him. He stood still on the welcome mat right inside, looking down at his wet clothes and damp feathers. He opened his mouth to ask Goldie for either new clothes or a miracle, but as soon as he lifted his head, something smacked him in the face and fell limply into his arms. A towel.

“Bathroom is down that hall to the left,” Goldie said, leaning against the wall a few feet away and giving him an unreadable look. “You might wanna clean up.”

He stared at her. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Goldie said, not budging, and then she huffed. “And I’ll wash the hoodie, if you think you can stand to part with it for a while.”

With nothing left to do, Louie gave Goldie his hoodie and went down the hall to take a shower. When he got out, there was a plain green t-shirt waiting for him outside the door, and he put it on, thankful for it even though it was too big. Ottoman empire was playing quietly on the TV when he made his way back into the living room, and there was a glass of water waiting for him on the table.

He sat on the couch and wrapped himself up in a blanket while Goldie worked on something-or-other at the table across the room, and they talked about random, unimportant things for the rest of the night. He fell asleep sitting up, but he awoke in a reclined position with a pillow beneath his head, and he knew that everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

His handwriting was coming out shakier than usual, but he refused to acknowledge that it was because of his trembling hands. He needed to get this done, to get it right, but the words were blurring before his eyes and his heart was pounding in his chest and everything was suddenly a million times harder to deal with. He didn’t know what time it was – he’d been afraid to check for a while – but he knew that it had to be late. Late enough that no one would be awake.

“Huey?”

Okay, well, maybe not no one.

Slowly, Huey picked up his heavy head from his hunched over position and turned toward the doorway to the dining room. Dewey was standing there, looking a bit tired but more awake than Louie, who was hovering behind him and rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Huey tried to arrange his face into an expression that wouldn’t cause worry, but he was too slow. A furrow appeared between Dewey’s eyebrows, and concern was growing in Louie’s half lidded eyes. Huey sighed, and went back to staring blankly at the paper in front of him, defeated.

It didn’t take long for two sets of quiet footsteps to make their way over, and Dewey and Louie appeared on either side of him, pulling out the chairs to sit in. They obviously weren’t willing to leave him alone, and with a sense of defeat and resignation, Huey put down his pencil.

“It’s three in the morning,” Louie said softly – perhaps guessing that he hadn’t been keeping track – and Huey just huffed, taking his hat off his head so that his hands had something to mess with. “Do you have to do this now?”

“I said I would,” Huey answered, new anxiety shoving its way up his throat. “I’m supposed to— It’s for the Junior Woodchucks. I can’t just—" He cut himself off and swallowed hard, feeling the urge to cry. “It’s important.”

“So is getting good sleep, though,” Dewey pointed out, a hereditary stubbornness creeping into his voice. “That’s what you’re always telling us, at least.”

And yeah, if Dewey or Louie had been in his position, he’d be dragging them off to bed by now. But this was different. He was different. It didn’t matter as much.

“Yeah, I am always telling you that,” Huey said, ignoring the way his voice shook, and he picked up the pencil again. “So go back to sleep.”

Dewey huffed in irritation. “Huey, come on, just—”

“No.”

“You’re stressing yourself out, you need rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“Huey,” Louie said, tired but firm, “can’t you finish this tomorrow?”

“No, I— I promised to finish it tonight,” Huey said, neglecting to mention that the promise was to himself and no one else. Technically, he could finish it tomorrow. No one else would care if the paper was a bit late, but he did.

“You’re burning yourself out,” Louie stated bluntly, and after a small hesitation, a hand fell onto his shoulder. “You can’t work like this.”

“I have to,” Huey said, practically whispering at this point.

“Says who?” Louie asked, already knowing the answer, and Huey just sighed, letting the pencil drop down to the table as he put his head in his hands.

“It needs to be good,” Huey said, a bit braver with his words now that they couldn’t see his face. “It’s supposed to be better than this. It’s supposed to be easy.”

“It’ll be easier if you get some sleep,” Dewey said, and Huey turned his head a bit to peek out at him. “The best you can do will be even better in the morning.”

Huey dragged his hands down his face, knowing that this was a fight he was bound to lose.

“I thought I could do it,” Huey said quietly, blinking away the tears in his eyes.

Slowly, a hand slipped into his and Huey turned to see Louie smiling at him, small and sad and a little bit awkward, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing.

“It’s okay to need a break,” Louie told him, and he glanced down at the paper on the table. “Whatever this is can wait a few hours.”

Huey took a deep breath, the knot in his chest loosening and untangling into something more manageable. He squeezed Louie’s hand and quirked a barely-there grin in Dewey’s direction.

“When did you two get so persuasive?” Huey asked, something teasing creeping into his voice.

“We learned from the best,” Dewey said, smiling a relieved smile as he pushed back the chair and stood up, offering him a hand. “Which is you, by the way.”

Huey laughed softly, taking his hand and standing up, glancing back at the paper with vague sadness, still a bit disappointed. But Huey’s little brothers were right, and there was a part of him that was proud of them for it, even though he felt bad that they had to be here instead of in bed.

“Thanks, guys,” Huey said softly, looking between them.

“No problem,” Louie said, squeezing his hand once more before letting go, standing up with a yawn. And then, as casual as could be: “Grab him, Dewey.”

“Wh—”

Huey cut himself off with a yelp as Dewey picked him up and slung him across his back, effectively giving him a piggyback ride. Huey blinked, baffled, wondering how his life came to this, with Dewey and Louie both snickering to themselves as they started the walk back to their room.

“You guys are unbelievable,” Huey said once he’d regained his composure, laughter clear in his voice.

“You love us,” Dewey shot back lightly, and Huey just grinned.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, hear me out,” Louie said, leaning forward from where he was sitting crossed legged on a rock, looking up at Lena with mischievous eyes. “For no particular reason – Just, you know, theoretically – would you be able to like, summon gold? With your magic.”

Lena let out a laugh that was more just a huff of air, turning to give him a deadpan look, pointedly gesturing behind her.

“We’re kinda supposed to be on lookout duty here, Green,” Lena said dryly, staring down at her best friend’s brother, who was making no actual effort to cover up that he didn’t want to be there. “But theoretically, no. I can’t.”

She turned back to look down at the sprawling field of waist-high grass that was spread out below where they stood, on a cliff overlooking the valley where the rest of the McDuck clan was currently getting into who knew what kinds of trouble. The others had gone into a cave opposite where Lena and Louie were standing about an hour ago, and Louie had long since given up keeping watch in favor of sitting and asking the occasional odd question. He couldn’t quite hide his anxiety about the wellbeing of his family, no matter much he pretended to be perfectly relaxed.

“Have you ever tried?” Louie asked, letting his chin fall into his hand as he lazily swept his eyes across the field below.

“I’ve had a lot going on in my life, and making gold out of thin air was never on my list of priorities,” Lena said, finally giving in to exhaustion and boredom as she sat on the ground, her back against a tree. “And I don’t need to try it to know it’s impossible. You can’t make something from nothing.”

“But you can make nothing from something?”

“I dunno,” Lena said, shrugging.  “I think that’s just called ‘destroying things’.”

Louie just hummed in response to that, and they fell back into a temporary silence as they looked out at the landscape. The only reason they even needed a look out on this adventure was because there were rumors of a large group of bandits in the area, and Scrooge hadn’t wanted to get stuck in the caves with them. Once it became clear that someone would have to stay behind to keep an eye on things, Louie had immediately volunteered, and somehow Lena had ended up there as well.

Sighing, she turned away from the field and plopped down on the ground, rolling her eyes when Louie raised an eyebrow.

“Even I get tired of staring at nothing after a while,” Lena explained flatly, leaning back on her hands.

“Especially since you can’t make something out of it,” Louie said, something teasing in his voice, and Lena cracked a smile.

“It’s your turn to be lookout anyway,” she said. “I’m on break.”

Louie snorted, glancing down at the valley before looking back at her with a mischievous grin. “I don’t listen to people who can’t make it rain gold from the sky.”

“Gold is heavy, y’know. You’d probably end up with a concussion.”

“And it would be worth it.”

Lena laughed.

“Have you actually had a concussion before?” she asked, partially curious and partially looking for a distraction from being bored out of her mind.

“More times than I’m comfortable with, honestly,” Louie said, huffing in irritation. “To be clear, I’d rather the number was zero, but that’s impossible with this family.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Lena said, hoping that she’d never have the misfortune of getting hit in the head that hard. “Your family combined has got to have had enough concussions to scare a doctor into retiring.”

“Dewey’s definitely winning,” Louie said offhandedly, obviously exasperated and concerned. “He’s proud of it, too.”

“The fact that any of you are still alive is a miracle.”

“We’re McDucks.” Louie shrugged, not quite able to hide the furrow between his brow or the tired anxiety in his eyes. “We make our living on miracles, no matter what Uncle Scrooge says about hard work.”

Lena didn’t really know what to say to that, so she just gave a comforting sort of smile and said, “I guess you really don’t listen to anyone who can’t make it rain gold.”

“Uncle Scrooge comes the closest, but he refuses to do it,” Louie said, the heaviness gone from his voice as if it had never been there. Lena knew a thing or two about dwelling on things that wouldn’t change, and figured that Louie had learned the same things that she had. Both of them were well-versed in pushing away their feelings, it seemed. Both of them practiced at making nothing out of something.

“Well, if I ever figure out how to do it,” Lena said, letting her voice get a bit softer, “you’ll be the first to know.”

Louie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you will.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, staring out at the field below and sighing every now and then as they debated at what point they should start a search and rescue operation.

Eventually, they saw the distant figures of their family making their way out of the cave, waving at them excitedly. The issue was that the bandits had decided to make an appearance shortly after, riding in on horses and quickly surrounding the recently returned adventurers. Atop the cliff, Louie sighed, and Lena was inclined to agree.

“They really have the worst timing,” Louie said. “What are we supposed to do?”

Before either of them could come with a plan of action, Louie’s phone pinged in his pocket, and he took it out to look at it, raising an eyebrow immediately after.

“What is it?” Lena asked, torn between watching Louie and watching the chaos beneath them.

“Dewey texted me,” Louie said, a mixture of fondness and exhaustion tangling into his voice. “He wants us to cause a distraction.”

“What? Why?”

“Only he knows, I guess.”

“Okay, well, what are we supposed to do? Yell?”

“Dewey can yell louder than both of us combined. I don’t know how much that would help.”

“True enough.”

They looked around the surrounding area for a moment, casting about for anything that they could use. Louie was the one who saw it.

“Hey, Lena?” Louie asked, and Lena hummed in response, glancing over at him. “You see that cliff over there?”

She followed his line of sight until she saw it, and her brow furrowed in slight confusion. “Yeah?”

Louie turned back to her with a slow smile growing on his face. She narrowed her eyes.

“It seems pretty unstable to me,” he said, and Lena’s eyes widened.

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“Nope.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Probably.”

“…Let’s do it.”

Louie grinned.

The resulting landslide was as much of a distraction as it was destruction, and Dewey made sure to tell them exactly how cool he thought it had been, even as he was in bed recovering from his latest concussion.

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