#galoots

“What’s the meaning of all this, then?”

Donald let out a choked gasp, wobbling from his spot on the bookshelf. There was a series of loud yells from three different individuals as Donald fell from the shelves, his eyes screwed shut as he braced himself for impact. He hit sooner than anticipated, into the soft and clothed chest of his uncle’s butler-best-friend, Duckworth.

There was a grunt of exertion from the man as he teetered towards falling back with the added weight of the young duckling, straightening himself at the last second on the plush armchair of the study. Donald’s eyes began to open from their shut state, to find two different pairs staring back at his with a look that was both parts exasperated and worried.

The young duck let out a weak giggle, trying his best to get off from the scolding he was sure to receive, “Hi, Unca Scrooge. Hi, Ducky.” He put on his best cheerful voice, arms reaching for his uncle with a grin. He knew just how to get them, the little troublemaker.

Scrooge sighed, the breath releasing the tension of Donald nearly breaking an arm from the fall. He scooped up his nephew, too soft to deny the boy of his affection. As the weight shifted from Duckworth to himself, he gave a low grunt of effort- too soon the young bairn would be too heavy and big for the old duck to continue carrying him like this.

“Just what in blazes do you think you were doing, Donald?” He asked with a huff, moving to the armchair to sit and take the extra weight off his sore back. He gave a knowing look to his companion, who simply sighed and moved to take the seat beside him.

Donald’s face had immediately buried into the juncture between Scrooge’s shoulder and neck once he was held, clinging to the older man with a mumble neither could make out. At prodding to his side from familiar fingers, he let out a small giggle and pulled back to look up towards the bookshelf, pointing up to the highest shelf.

“That one has my name on it!” He said by way of explanation, grinning as the two men glanced upwards towards the object in question.

Scrooge’s face immediately drained of amusement, suddenly feeling his feathers puff as if to shield him from a phantom gust of wind.

“Oh, I see.” He answered in a murmur, feeling Donald’s curious eyes on him as Duckworth shared a look of knowing with him. He’d forgotten just how long it had been since they had even laid eyes upon the small ornate book, the sight of it bringing back too many feelings that the old duck had thought long healed.

“Can I see it, Unca, please?” Came the sweet questioning voice of his nephew, arms wrapped tighter around Donald as if to shield him from the offending book.

Duckworth cleared his throat after some time of silence, breaking Scrooge of his incessant staring, “Shall I grab it for you, sir?”

“Hm? Oh- Yes, yes, I suppose so.” He spoke shakily, swallowing thickly around the already building emotions as Duckworth stood, reached, and brought down the object in question: Donald’s baby book.

The ornate, glittery cover depicted a little yellow duckling hatching out of its egg, surrounded by scenes of play and springtime, embellished with silver glitter. Donald ran a hand reverently over the cover, grinning up at Scrooge as his fingers became covered with loosened glitter, “What kinda book is it, Unca?” He asked innocently.

“This is your baby book, Donald.” He spoke in a hushed tone as Duckworth settled back into the chair beside them, leaning slightly towards the two and placing a hand reassuringly on his employer’s shoulder. Scrooge took in a few breaths to steady himself as he opened to the first page. His eyes crinkled at the corners to the sight of loopy and precise handwriting, the deep blue ink set firmly in Hortense’s best penmanship. He remembered her tongue poking out the side of her lip, brow creased in concentration while he looked on with a snicker.

She had been so proud of her writing, nearly as proud as Quackmore had been while giving her photographs of their young son to label and date on each page. He ran a hand carefully over the slight indentation the ink left in the nearly flawless page, a soft smile gracing his beak as he thought back to those first days.

Donald tapped at the corner of the page, his way of asking silently for Scrooge to move on to the next page, “All about me as a baby?” He asked in awe as he squirmed in anticipation.

“Aye, lad. Your Ma and Pa started making it as soon as you were lain.” Scrooge used a free hand to ruffle Donald’s head feathers, flipping the page as requested. The first showed a neat and well documented list of Donald from egg to hatchling- weight, day of first rattle, hours to hatch, official time of birth. Next to each piece of information was a tiny subscript, naming the page on which to find pictures accompanying the list of firsts.

“Ma and Pa did?” The young nephew in question looked amazed, turning up to look at his uncle with a shine in his eyes, “Wow...all that time ago?”

Scrooge gave a tight smile, nodding as he began to read down the dates. His hand shook with emotion, a hand coming to settle over his and squeeze with light encouragement. He glanced up to find Duckworth watching him, expression knowing and exuding the comfort Scrooge knew he sorely needed.

“Would you like to see a picture of them?” He asked after a beat, flipping through the pages and the past to find a photo of his sister and brother-in-law. Donald watched as each memory passed by, moments of his life he was too young to remember. There was a sharp intake of breath from him as Scrooge found the page he was looking for.

The photograph had barely faded, shielded from dust and light by the paper it was encased in. Donald gave a small sound of amazement as his fingers traced the faces of his parents, “Wow.”

Scrooge smiled, taking in the looks on their faces. The kind and proud smile on Quackmore’s face, as well as the glint of humor in Hortense’s face from where he could barely see her poking a finger into baby Donald’s side, causing the duckling to laugh and smile for the camera. Scrooge saw a younger version of himself, standing tall behind his baby sister and gazing in awe at the baby she held.

Duckworth’s hand squeezed in his own, breaking him from his silent staring and leaning to get a closer look, “I remember taking this, you know. Hortense- your Ma- was so excited to have a family photo.” His beak broke into a smirk, pinching Donald’s cheek, “And then you decided to get sick all over your cute little suit.”

Donald giggled and shied away from the hand, “Gross, Unca Scrooge!” He whined, looking back at the photo, “Why isn’t Duckworth in here?”

The man beside them took in a breath, both turning to look at him as he stumbled over an explanation, “Well… I wasn’t family, Donald. I was just an employee, that’s all.”

“Nonsense, Benedict!” Scrooge berated, “You weren’t in the photograph because your good suit was out to be cleaned, and you refused to wear anything less than perfect.” He whispered conspiratorially to Donald, “Hortense tried to drag him in. I’d never seen anyone stand up to her like that, besides your Pa.”

There was a scoff and then a hand came smacking lightly down on his shoulder, causing Scrooge to laugh and grin up at the dog while Donald giggled in his lap.

“How come I never seen a picture of them before, Unca Scrooge?” Donald asked after they had calmed, finger still tracing the folds of Quackmore’s coat and the curls in his mother’s hair.

He smiled and picked the photo carefully out of the page, handing it to Donald, “I don’t know, lad. But how about we get a frame for this one, so you can keep it in your room?”

Donald’s face brightened, taking the photo and holding it to his chest, “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it! Would I ever lie to you?” Scrooge shut the book, setting it on the smooth side table beside him and moving to stand, “We’ll head out this afternoon and look for one.”

Donald hopped out from the chair and pulled his uncle up to be beside him, “And get ice cream?”

“And get ice cream.” He agreed, straightening his coat and smiling down at the duckling in front of him as Duckworth stood from his own chair and quietly cleared his throat. Scrooge looked over to find him holding what they had come here for in the first place: a small notebook of expenditures and sinking funds from the past twenty years.

“Back to work for now, I’m afraid sir.” He held the book with a tight smile, ushering them both out of the home library.

Scrooge scoffed and led the way back towards the study, the little patter of duckling feet following close behind, “Really, Benedict. Making me earn my free time, eh?”

“As always, sir.” Came the quick reply, the duck being able to hear the twinge of amusement in his companion’s voice.

* You peruse this strange duck’s items out of politeness. Admittedly, they are of high quality and kept in good condition.

* ...

* After several hours, you find yourself wholly enraptured by these comic books about ducks.

* The duck vendor smiles. You suspect that no amount of genuine good will lies behind that grin. No, it was done in self-satisfied triumph of winning you over via duck images.

* Like the completely subservient duck-addict you are, you enquire about the possibility of more duck content.

* Yes, you are, and it would be great if you could see them, you reply.

* The duck vendor pulls out a manilla folder. The secrets contained within that folder must be very, very important.

* She slides it to you, informing you that the contents are classified. You swear to never tell anybody.

* The folder trembles in your hands. This is it. This is the ultimate duck content, sandwiched between your two sets of sweaty fingers. 

* With a breath, and seeing a reassuring nod from the duck vendor, you open it.