Chapter Text
Sometimes Donald couldn’t help but think of how much easier it could be back when it was just him and the boys on the boat. It’s not something he liked to think about often, or even could for that matter with the jobs and adventuring, but he still found in some moments, when his nephews came back hurt or when he showed up to an empty houseboat, slinking back to those thoughts.
What had prompted the thought process that day was a realization from a quick glance at his calendar full of marks for his anger management appointments that his nephews’ birthday was a month away and he had absolutely no idea what to get them.
In the past it had been quite simple. He would get Dewey a watergun or soccer ball and watch as he played with it for a week before he either broke it, lost it, or moved onto something else. For Huey all he needed to do was get him the supplies he needed for his next Junior Woodchuck badge, a used baking book from a thrift shop to earn his baking badge or some needle and thread for a stitching badge and watch as a large smile grew on Huey’s face. Louie was the easiest of them all, either wanting another version of his favorite green hoodie, or simply money, preferable in the form of single dollar bills so it felt like more.
But the move to the mansion had given his nephews much higher expectations, Dewey’s standard for fun rising above toys, Huey earning badges easily every other week, and Louie’s drive for money- and encouragement by Scrooge- getting him much more than Donald ever could
Donald thought on all of this as he trudged around the mansion’s kitchen, hoping to get some breakfast before his five a.m shift at the docks, his latest job that would hopefully last more than two weeks. He grabbed a box of Quackeroats and opened up the kitchen cabinet, reaching for a bowl on the top shelf.
Much to his horror (though he should have expected it at that point) the bowl he grabbed promptly knocked into another stack of bowls as he was pulling it out causing them to crash to the floor as he hurriedly moved out of the way of the impact. He stared at the bowls on the ground and rubbed his face as he considered how much Uncle Scrooge would make him pay for the damages.
‘At least I still got this bowl,’ he thought glumly as he set it down and moved to get a broom and dustpan. He needed to quickly clean up the mess just in case any of the kids woke up from the noise and started to investigate. He didn’t want them walking on glass.
‘Though I guess by now they’ve had more danger then that’
It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for the children that they got to live a better and bigger life then he could ever give them (even if he was worried about them every second they were out of his sight). He just couldn’t help but think how they didn’t need him anymore, he couldn’t give them anything Scrooge couldn’t, in fact he could only give them less.
Donald paused in his cleaning, and shook himself to clear away the thoughts.
‘No! No thinking like that, it’s a good thing the kids don’t need me! Less stress all around, they’re happier and I should be happier too!’
Donald poured the full dustpan into the bin and began turning around to clean up the rest when his foot caught on a loose glass shard, and he began to fall. Donald hurriedly tried to catch himself swinging his left hand to grab the counter, which unfortunately was the hand with the broom in it, which smacked into the remaining intact bowl he set down and sent it flying to the floor with a crash, Donald soon following afterwards.
He groaned as he rubbed his head, sitting up and surveying the damage.
“Ah phooey.”
Donald got up to once again attempt at cleaning when the door to the kitchen flew open.
“Stop intruder! In the name of the law or- oh hi Donald!”
There in the doorway stood Webby, still dressed in her pink pajamas with bed hair, fighting position slowly fading away and features brightening with the realization that it was just another one of Donald’s accidents and not Scrooge’s various enemies.
“Here, let me help you!” she said brightly- and maybe a bit too loudly for the time it was- as she raced over and bent down to pick up the glass pieces.
“No wait! You may hurt-”
“Ouch!”
“-yourself…”
Webby gripped her hand as blood began to poor out on her feathers in a slow but steady stream. Although she grimaced at the sight she was quick to lighten up again as she looked up at Donald.
“Ah don’t worry, I’ve had worse than this! Like this one time me and Dewey found this vine monster in the garage with a lot of thorns on it which was cool and painful to punch! I’ll just go get the first aid kit!”
Webby quickly leapt to her feet and began racing towards the door when Donald walked forward and like he’s done with the boys many times before, picked her up and deposited her on the kitchen counter.
“No you don’t need to do that, I was the one that made this mess, besides I know where your grandma keeps her emergency first aid kit in here.”
If there was one person more paranoid than Donald it was Benita Beakly, who stashed a first aid kit in every room in the mansion. Given Donald’s, numerous, numerous, accidents, he has become well acquainted with where they were. He went over to one of the kitchen tiles and pulled it up revealing the first aid kit.
“Are you sure? Because I can wrap gauze really fast! One time at a… totally….. not….. suspicious island, I managed to patch myself up in five minutes, while having arrows shot at me!”
Donald chuckled at her words, taking her hand and wiping alcohol on the wound. Webby winced but didn’t cry out like other, probably more well-adjusted, children might have.
“When he was younger Dewey managed to get into the utensil drawer and tried juggling them.”
“I guess he didn’t do a good job?”
“He didn’t know how to juggle at all, if you can bandage a crying, screaming kid with about six fork punctures, you can bandage anyone.”
Donald put the bandaid on Webby’s hand and lifted it to kiss it, like he’s done with his boys numerous times in the past, but paused realizing she was in fact, not his child, and set her hand down gently.
“Thank you!” Webby said, once again in a voice much too loud, and hopped down from the counter. “Can I help again with the cleaning, now that I’m all patched up?” Donald looked and saw hopeful eyes gazing up at him. But Donald had had his fair share of hopeful eyes.
“I want to avoid any further accidents for now-”
Webby’s smile dropped as disappointment overtook her face.
Okay maybe Donald wasn’t as immune to children’s emotions as he would like to be.
“-but I do need your help with something else.”
Webby once again brightened up, it’s amazing how short children’s attention spans were. Donald picked up the previously discarded broom and dustpan and set about as he readied the question he wished he didn’t have to ask about his own chil-. Nephews.
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s birthday is coming up and I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with them on adventures, so I was wondering if you might know what they would want?”
Donald turned away, embarrassed to admit his own ignorance as he busied himself with collecting the remaining of the glass shards. It was silent for a few moments and curious Donald turned back around to find a concentrated look on Webby’s face, eyebrows burrowed and hand on her chin.
“Well I know Dewey really liked that ancient sword we saw back in the Abandoned Caves of Tra-La-La! But we had to cast it into the Ocean of Forgotten Souls because who ever wielded the blade turned blood crazy. Hewey wanted to meet the founder of the woodchuck guide book and we actually just found a mirror to the past yesterday in the Ruins of the Ancient city of Scamtinez! Although the mirror is a bit effy, it showed us each a different past and we all started fighting with each other….. Oh! I know Louie wanted money, if I remember correctly I think the last amount of money he asked Uncle Scrooge for was 2,000 dollars.”
Donald emptied the last of the glass into the trash and he leaned against his broom. So essentially what this meant was he could offer the boys nothing and will forever remain the boring, worst uncle. Great. Wonderful even. Donald sighed, not even having the energy to phooey anymore.
“But I’m really sure what the boys would love the most,-” Webby began saying as she walked over to the disgruntled Donald, “-is anything you give them, they love you Donald and they’re lucky to have you.” Webby looked up at him, face sincere in the way Donald wished most people in the world could be. In the way he wished he himself could be.
Donald wasn’t sure if he could quite believe what she said but the words still touched his heart anyway. Webby truly was such a sweet girl, even if a bit intense. It all of a sudden felt wrong for her to call Scrooge ‘Uncle Scrooge’ when he was still plain old Donald.
“Uncle Donald.”
“What?”
Donald coughed hoping to disguise the sudden influx of embarrassment and affection he felt for the brighted eyed, pink girl in front of him.
“Call me Uncle Donald, the boys think of you as their sister at this point, and I consider you to be part of the family.”
Donald nervously looked at Webby, unsure if he said anything wrong when all Webby did was stare back at him, eyes wide and unblinking.
“Um, are you o-”
“OH MY GOSH!”
Donald jumped at the sudden volume change though Webby didn’t seem to notice in her excited haze as she jumped around the kitchen.
“This is AMAZING, another confirmation from a McDuck member! I got to update my Mcduck Board-” Mcduck Board? “-oh my gosh I need more yarn!”
Webby sprinted out of the kitchen and Donald shook his head in fond amusement before glancing at the clock and groaning when he realized he would have to skip breakfast if he wanted to be on time to work. However, just as he was beginning to turn around to head out, he felt a pair of small arms wrap around him and he glanced back to see Webby’s head buried in his shirt
“Thank you Uncle Donald.” she said softly into his back before racing out of the room once more.
Donald stood there for a second, staring at the place where Webby just was, before breaking out into a huge grin and beginning his trek to his car with a pep in his step.
‘I think today will be a good day!’
He took another step, hand reaching for the doorknob out the back way when his feet caught on something and he slipped once more, tumbling to the ground. He groaned as he sat up and felt for whatever tripped him.
It was a piece of glass.
‘Or, maybe not’