Chapter Text
Donald walked nervously into the kitchen, humming a quiet tune to himself as he opened the fridge, scratching his head blearily. All he could think about was what perilous escapade they’d be forced to face today as he took out a carton of milk and poured it absently into a mug.
“Morning Uncle Donald!” Huey hummed spiritedly, marching into the kitchen with eyes far too alert for such an early hour.
”Oh, good morning Huey.” Donald smiled weakly at his nephew in red before returning the carton of milk to the fridge. He was looking oddly scruffy. Donald reached for his mug and started drinking his milk, cold.
Dewey dragged himself haphazardly across the kitchen floor, still half asleep.
He spied the glass in his Uncle Donald’s hands, his eyebrows stitching together. “Uncle Donald, are you drinking plain, cold milk??” He asked, vaguely horrified. Dewey seemed to gain a brief moment of lucidity as the sleep in his eyes cleared, temporarily focused entirely on the mug his uncle held.
Donald took another sip before setting the mug down on the counter. Some milk had gotten on his beak. He didn’t feel the need to wipe it, instead turning and looking back at Dewey, yawning. “It looks like I am.”
“Riiiiight,” Dewey enunciated before collapsing onto the kitchen table. Huey waddled up beside him and gracefully propelled himself onto a chair.
“So, what’s the plan today?” Huey asked excitedly, pumping his fists up and down. “Solving a mystery? Rewriting history? Finding lost treasure?!”
After the incident with ‘Quack Pack’, Donald had tried to learn to accept his family’s adventuring habits. He had gotten used to it, to an extent. Though right now he didn’t feel like he’d made much progress at all. Trying not to show any distaste for his nephew’s suggestions, Donald said “How about something different today? Maybe something we don’t usually do.”
“FIGHTING A DRAGON? FIGHTING SEVERAL DRAGONS??” Dewey gasped. “FIGHTING SEVERAL DRAGONS WHO BREATHE ACID????”
“But we have fought dragons,” Huey pointed out wryly.
“Not acid breathing ones!” Dewey sulked.
Donald sighed, clearly not getting an answer he’d be happy with. He took another sip of his milk and walked closer to his nephews. “How about maybe… something less life-threatening?”
“A nice relaxing trip to the Birdmuda Triangle?” Dewey suggested. “Catching Mothman on camera?” He considered, hand on his chin. “Nah. Too sedate.”
“We could visit the Yellowstone supervolcano!” Huey added. “Or go see Mount Vesuvius. Did you know that it’s due to erupt again? I wanna see!” Huey exclaimed excitedly, thumbing his Junior woodchuck guidebook.
“Doesn’t sound too dangerous,” Donald chirped.
“Uncle Donald, are you suggesting that we… stay home?” Huey asked incredulously.
Donald intentionally looked away, slurping from his mug loudly. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt if we could just have one day without anyone getting injured or nearly dying.”
“Yeah - that’s what makes it so fun! What’s a little adventuring without losing a few feathers along the way, huh?”
“Dewey… It’s… I don’t want to lose any of you, okay?!”
The two brothers shared a quick, concerned glance. Neither one knew what to say about the sudden outburst.
Donald rubbed his temples, before placing his mug down again. He continued averting his gaze, keeping silent.
“Well-“ Huey began slowly.
"No time to sit around, kids," Scrooge interrupted jovially, entering the kitchen. He was so focused on the map he was holding that he hadn't noticed anything was out of the ordinary. "We've got a big day of treasure hunting ahead of us! This map will lead us to the Lost Fortune of Firefly Fjord, and..." He finally looked up, reading the room. He raised a concerned eyebrow. "Is this a bad time?"
Huey stood awkwardly at the edge of the table, scratching the back of his head and glancing between his two uncles. Dewey kept his eyes trained on the table, worrying at a chip of paint that had come loose sometime in the impossibly long life of Scrooge’s furniture.
Donald turned around, keeping his head low. “I think I’ll… j-just go back to my houseboat…” He said in a croaky voice, dropping his half-empty mug lonesome on the counter and slowly sulking away.
Huey reached out as if to stop him, but retracted his hand, looking pensive.
Scrooge paused, then pocketed the map. Adventure could wait. "Donald, what's wrong?" He asked with concern in his voice, taking a step towards his eldest nephew.
Donald stayed silent. The room sat in tense stagnation until Louie broke it- brashly entering the kitchen and making his way to the fridge to grab a can of Pep, to no one’s surprise. Louie raised an eyebrow in confusion as he opened his can. Finally, Donald’s beak parted. “It’s only a matter of time…”
Scrooge looked briefly at the boys in confusion, wondering what he'd missed.
“Nothing’ll happen Uncle Donald,” Dewey assured him flippantly. “We’ve been on like, a million different adventures and we haven’t died yet.” He chuckled nervously, as if hearing the last line for the first time. Perhaps it wasn’t the best choice of wording.
Louie shot a confused glance at Scrooge, though that wasn’t stopping him from drinking his cold, fresh can of Pep.
"Hang on a sec." Scrooge shook his head in bewilderment. "A matter of time until what, exactly?"
“What do you think?” Donald started. “One of these days, we may lose someone! There have been too many close calls!”
“Now, Uncle Donald-” Huey appealed hurriedly. “Adventuring is our legacy, and you know I’d never let any of us go into something unprepared.” He paused to fetch his JWG, rifling through the pages with practiced speed. “Junior Woodchuck Guidebook rule 84: safety DOESN'T happen by accident!”
“Yeah. Uncle Scrooge doesn’t let us do, like, anything alone anyways.” Dewey rolled his eyes.
Scrooge gave Dewey a stern look, then turned back to Donald. "We won't lose anybody," he responded firmly. "I accept that you're worried, but we've all been doing this for years! We've never lost anybody before."
“Yeah, Uncle Donald!” Huey hummed, attempting to smile reassuringly at his uncle whilst simultaneously glaring contemptuous daggers at his brash brother.
Donald sighed quietly. “Just because we haven’t lost anyone before doesn’t mean it can’t happen. I’m afraid for all of this family…” He paused, turning to face Huey, Dewey and Louie. “Especially you three. I’ve taken care of you boys for over a decade. And yes, even if Della has come back, I’m still practically your father.” On the inside, it hurt Donald that everybody seemed to forget how much effort he’d put into caring for the triplets since Della’s departure. Of course, he could never feel bitter towards his sister, and he figured talking about it would make things worse.
Scrooge dropped his gaze. Even though he knew that nothing bad would happen to the boys, he knew exactly where Donald was coming from. He had felt exactly the same way when Donald and Della had been children, after all. He looked at Huey and Dewey for a moment, then up at Donald. This was uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Well, I can tell there's nothing I could say to put your mind at ease," he began. "So perhaps you should come along yourself? That way, you can see that they're safe, and that there's nothing to worry about." He gave him a[ reassuring] smile in an attempt to calm him.
“Oh! Yeah! You can come with us, just to make sure we’re being safe. That would make you feel better, wouldn’t it, Uncle Donald?” Huey said hurriedly, trying to alleviate the tension.
Dewey rested his head on the table and averted his eyes, already half-detached.
Donald hesitated for a moment, but decided that if they had to be flying into the unknown, he should at least be going with them. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Scrooge grinned. "So the Lost Fortune of Firefly Fjord," he explained as he reopened his map, "is located within a cave that spans underneath the Fjord itself. Legend has it that an ancient clan used it as a stronghold to protect their treasures, using the perilous terrain as a natural deterrent to treasure hunters."
“Topographical defenses!” Huey squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. “It only makes sense after all- such a frigid climate and harsh environment makes for a rather unwelcoming sight. Nobody in their right minds would go there!” he chucked.
The older duck nodded, encouraged by his nephew's enthusiasm. "Of course, to any old adventurer, this would be too hard to attempt. But we're Ducks," he exclaimed proudly. "This will be a walk in the park."
“You had me at ‘treasure’,” Louie hummed nonchalantly, his eyes glittering.
"Well, I suppose you’re motivated at least," Scrooge teased as he rolled up the treasure map and sat it in his pocket. "Now, I took the liberty to pack the bare essentials. You'll all find an individual set of protective gear in the Sunchaser, alongside a coil of rope equipped with a grapple and a head torch each.”
Dewey slid slowly and unenthusiastically down the table, making a righteous racket as he did so. A prolonged squealing sounded out as his skin peeled away from its placement on the furniture. Finally, he hit the floor with a quiet groan, throwing his leg in the air and whining.
“If Uncle Donald is going you can kiss that treasure goodbye,” he complained. “And any hope of adventure.” He wiggled his suspended leg as if beckoning for somebody to come take it and drag him along. Nobody did.
"Ah, you'll be fine once you get there," Scrooge replied dismissively. "I'm sure Donald will be able to control his..." Scrooge coughed, unable to think of another term. "'Parental urges'." He'd speak to Donald himself once they were on the plane. It was imperative that he didn't interfere with the children's focus or they really could be in danger.
Donald was hurt, no doubt. But he forced a weak smile in an attempt to hide it.
Perhaps that had been a bit harsh, Scrooge wondered. Ah well; they would have plenty of time to talk about this on the flight over. He flashed Donald an apologetic smile before turning around and walking out of the kitchen towards the front door. "No sense in wasting time," he remarked. "To the Sunchaser!!"
“Ooh, wait just a second!” Louie said, taking out several cans of Pep from the fridge. “Hopefully that’s everything I need.”
Huey deadpanned. “What about water?”
“Water, schmater. I don’t have room for it.”
“Well, actually-” Huey began but cut himself off. It really wasn’t worth the oxygen.