Work Text:
In the neighborhood of Mickey Mouse and his friends, a special occasion was taking place. Minnie and Daisy were preparing the food, Goofy was (attempting) to set up decorations (while Mickey kept a sharp eye and helpful hand nearby), and "Uncle Scrooge" was carefully wrapping up the presents. Huey, Dewey, and Louie ran about sporadically, helping whoever they could, and often reminding their elders of the time.
Finally, at 11 o'clock am, sharp, everything was miraculously in order.
"Mickey," Minnie called from the kitchen, "I see them coming! They're almost in the driveway!"
"All right, everyone, places!" Mickey said excitedly (while managing to dislodge Goofy's head from the fish bowl).
Everyone scrambled around the front door, the three young ones in front, their hands grasping party favors, and they all held their breaths.
The door unlocked and three birds stepped inside.
One was a red-feathered rooster, who wore a bright red coat to match, and a wide-brimmed sombrero, and at his hips, he bore two pistols.
The other was a green-feathered parrot, with a fashionable cane and old-fashioned cigar between his fingers (or feathers?).
And the third was a white-feathered duck, wearing an iconic blue sailor suit...
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, (UNCLE) DONALD!" The party shouted loudly together (his nephews, obviously, added the "Uncle"), shooting confetti into the air.
Donald Duck blushed and ushered his old friends forward.
"Friends, I want you to meet Panchito and José, my fellow Caballeros," he said in his usual, somewhat unintelligible voice, but thankfully, years of exposure was enough translation for everyone present.
"Yaaaaaaahhhhho!" Panchito, the rooster, shouted, and proceeded to exclaim and shout in rapid-fire Spanish, tossing his sombrero in the air, and candy from his pockets (much to Huey, Dewey and Louie's delight).
José took a long inhale from his cigar, and sighed something in Brazilian Portuguese, smiling at the antics of his friends, before approaching Daisy Duck, and kissing her hand.
Soon, everyone was shaking hands, laughing, and exchanging pleasantries, and they moved from the front hall to the living room. Scrooge McDuck seemed particularly keen to chat with José, whose cane seemed to be made of an older design that the old duck had not seen in years.
Minnie mentioned something about a cake, and Mickey offered to help her. Goofy followed them (saying he'll help light the candles, but really, Mickey dragged him along so he could keep an eye on his old, clumsy friend).
This left the living room occupied solely with birds, both of the Duck family and of the two Latino guests. Daisy laughed at Uncle Scrooge debating with José over whose cane was more valuable, and of her adopted nephews surrounding the exuberant rooster, all chatting away excessively.
"Here, mi amigos," Panchito suddenly said jovially to the nephews, whipping out a small booklet from his coat pocket, "here's a few memories with your tío, myself, and José, there. Just a couple of keepsakes of our days visiting Brazil, Mexico, et cetera, to celebrate the old boy's birthday, eh?"
He playfully nudged Donald in the ribs (who was currently trying to ask Daisy when dinner would be ready, and promptly squawked in protest). "Ha!" Panchito laughed. "Never change, mi amigo."
"I don't plan to," Donald grumbled under his breath.
"Ay yi yi, what a shame, my friend," José said, who had now ended his discussion with Scrooge, and was slyly leaning against the wall and examining his feathers. "There was once upon a time when you said the same thing, and now you've gone and settled down with a bela moça," he nodded graciously to Daisy, who was clutching her sweetheart's arm.
"What does he mean, Donald?" she asked sweetly.
Panchito, still waving the little booklet in his grip, exchanged wicked grins with José. "Oh, nothing much, señorita, except that your boyfriend was a bit of a, ah, what you call? A casa-- a caso—no--"
"A Casanova, I believe is what you're thinking of," José said, albeit a bit muffled, as he was taking another drag from his cigar.
Donald turned pale (if a white duck can turn pale). Daisy merely narrowed her eyes. But Donald's nephews busted up laughing.
"Uncle Donald? A Casanova?" Huey cried, laying on the floor and pounding it with his fists.
"No one's ever looked at Uncle Donald twice except Aunt Daisy!" Dewey gasped, clutching at his sides.
"You're gonna have to give us proof to believe you," Louie said, grinning from ear to ear, and leaning against the living room armchair to catch his breath.
"Ah, but we have!"
"You wouldn't!" Donald blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth (er, beak).
"Amigo, cálmate, cálmate, it's all just a bit of fun," Panchito said soothingly (but with a teasing glint in his eye). "Who wants to see some photos of Tío Donald chasing after some pretty ladies?"
The three nephews all shouted affirmation at once. Donald turned even paler, then pink, red, redder, deep purple, until---
What followed next could only be described as chaos. Donald flew into a terrible, infamous tantrum, chasing Panchito all over the living room, and his nephews chased after him, bombarding him with questions:
"Why are you so upset, Uncle Donald?"
"So, there really are pictures of proof?!"
"Why can't we see them?!"
"Uncle Scrooge, was Uncle Donald really a Casanova?"
(Uncle Scrooge scoffed and said something along the lines of “not my circus, not my monkeys.”)
Daisy stood stock still for a solid minute, before shouting at Donald to come back here at once, and explain himself!
José simply leaned against the wall, calmly taking drag after drag on his cigar, and passively sticking his foot out to trip up his friends during their chase, from time to time.
Scrooge shook his cane and attempted to discipline his great-nephews (he knew there was no helping Donald once he was on a rampage), but pandemonium demanded forefront attention and so it would be.
Mickey and Minnie stepped out of the kitchen, smiling, and presently a grand, freshly iced cake, with Goofy trailing behind them, humming to himself. They stopped dead in their tracks at the chaotic scene before them.
José smiled at them serenely, seemingly unmoved by their dumbfounded expressions.
"It's what you might call a 'celebration,' eh?" he said nonchalantly, nodding at the sight.
"I'd call it 'chaos,'" Mickey remarked, his eyes glued on Donald scrambling on top of the hearth to reach Panchito, who was perched on the high ceiling rafters, waving the little booklet in his hand teasingly.
José shrugged. "Same difference, in my country, anyway."
Goofy guffawed loudly. "Gawrsh, Mickey, that does sound about right!"
Mickey exchanged looks with Minnie. They both sighed and shrugged.
"I think I better hide the cake in the kitchen before anything happens to it," Minnie said delicately, stepping back a few paces before turning heel.
"Right behind ya, dear," Mickey said, shaking his head at his crazy friends. "Goofy, try to calm down Donald, will ya?"
"Righto, Mickey-o," Goofy said importantly, before marching into the living room and promptly getting knocked out by a swinging (and very angry) duck on the ceiling fan.
Mickey sighed. Maybe José was right. This was a typical "celebration" among friends, at least, friends of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck....