#references everywhere

He could see Goofy in the distance. He was still lying on the ground, somehow the genie kept the scorpions away from him and had kept what looked like his official merchandise, and he couldn't say he would be surprised if he was seeing Maxes; everything seemed to indicate that he would be a good father even before his son was born, a good-natured unlike him, not allowing himself to be guided by selfish desires and driven by the love between his son and he.

On the other side was his family, and when he thought of them, he was immediately aware of the gazes, completely different emotions that keep him grounded. Della and Scrooge wore supportive smiles, and how to blame them after having shamelessly stripped them of all their essence?

His kids, all four, wore smiles that barely reached their eyes, but they looked so warm that they broke Donald because, sincerely, he would rather see those lovely ducklings upset with him for lying to them, for the sole purpose of keeping them in a fantasy of a perfect, normal family.

But Goofy was right, and he knew he should thank him as soon as he woke up. Adventures was what made his family normal. Even his mother and aunt Tillie used to accompany Scrooge, it was basically a family tradition.

He couldn't take all of that away for being the black sheep and wishing to eradicate the family.

Even Mrs. B, still with her severe expression and while checking his old friend, knew that she was waiting for his wish.

Did he feel pressured? Maybe, because an idea had popped into his mind but it had been long gone.

"Okay, Donnie. Whatever you ask for, you'll have our support” wow, he had really missed hearing that. His sister's warm and gentle voice had always had a calming effect in a way that not even he could understand, perhaps it was the nostalgic and reminiscent factor to their mother? The brightness of her gaze was dimly muted, and both twins knew they had a lot to talk about.

Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if Huey, Dewey, Louie, and even Webby were muttering things to each other. He had raised those triplets for eleven years, and the beautiful addition of the female duckling to the family was one more reason to his gray feathers and larger servings of black coffee, so he was already aware of many of their antics, or their vague attempts to maintain communication codes that he had practiced for years with Della; and frankly deserved them.

That they talked about him behind his back couldn't be new to him, but now he couldn't blame them for it.

“Ye deserve it, son; it’s tru’ tha’ this family can be a he’dache” and there was Scrooge; the old man giving him a smile that reminded him of those days of yesteryear when everything was fine and it was only Scrooge McDuck and the Duck Twins against the unimaginable and willingly ignoring the reproachful “hey!”s of his grand-nephews “if ye nid yer space, Ah think we can understand it.”

There was something in his gaze that Donald couldn't decipher, and that didn't stop him from feeling less strong. 

He did not deserve this family, he thought listlessly; they were too forgiving for his liking. Maybe he was the problem.

“Are you sure?” The genie was still around his shoulder at that moment, smiling patiently, waiting for the last wish of the lamp master, but he could not risk breaking the contact, no matter how amateur he was not. Maybe it was the second thing that kept him going.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Beakley picking up Goofy. His friend was still not regaining consciousness, but his breathing was steady and he kept a smile on his face, which must mean there was nothing to worry about. As if on cue, the merchandise was gone in an instant, as if it had never been there.

“Of course bro. Back on the moon…” Della stopped abruptly as she remembered the catchphrase of his desire, and at her empty expression he couldn't laugh at the irony because that would be shameless and because he too had been a victim of Lunaris and— “I just thought of see my four boys happy. And I mean all four, Donald.”

Her voice was broken. By the time she had come closer, her metal leg ringing against gold and she had taken one of his hands in hers, he had already begun to feel his eyes burn and his sight blur.

He had really missed his sister. What was he thinking when he thought he could change it?

She had always been that way, ever since they were children, and putting aside her interest in the next adventure. When faced with a new change, especially the change in his voice, his sister had always been like this to take his hands, tell him how much she watched over his happiness, remind him of how much she loved him and allow him to cry on her shoulder. According to his sister and his uncle, until falling asleep.

"Whatever you ask for, however far-fetched it is, you'll always have your family to back you up." Winking at him, she silently thanked when Gene quietly pulled away from her twin to cradle him instantly.

In just an instant, Donald had gone from being the father of her boys to becoming the sensitive and shy duckling she remembered.

In just an instant, the twins had gone from proud adult parents to the wee bairns Scrooge remembered, when the orphan wound was still fresh. How, despite their few minutes apart, Della could take the role of the alpha twin.

"I'm really sorry, Dells." Donald's voice had grown hoarser, even his sister had trouble understanding the message, but when she did, she gently patted his back.

She preferred to ignore how her brother had cringed after hearing his voice again; and though it had been surprising to hear him with another during his desire — that if it was included in his fantasy, she feared for the answer — she preferred that raspy voice with which she had grown up.

"I know you didn't do it maliciously, Donald; I couldn't be mad at you for a long time even if I wanted to. Unless you deserve it.” Della smiled slyly when she heard her brother laugh; it was broken, but it was sincere and apologetic.

Same as him.

Though reluctant he turned away from his sister, rubbing his eyes to withdraw the tears that had had the decency not to flow. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the genie talking to his nephews, with Dewey speaking the most; and while Huey was more timid, Louie analyzed the lamp that he had dropped at some point.

Beakley and Webby kept the scorpions away. It didn't seem like an easy job but they seemed to have the situation under control. Goofy, still in the awkward position he was in by the treasure, had let out a snore.

He was fine.

For his part, Scrooge kept a distance from the twins, keeping a sympathetic smile. He wink at his nephew, saying the same to him.

If they both noticed the discomfort with which he cleared his throat, neither said anything.

But what could he wish for? Ever since he had the use of reason, he had lived typecast to adventures, and though he tried to escape from them, they always found a way to return to his life. He was Donald — Fauntleroy — Duck, and he was Scrooge McDuck's nephew, which could be both a blessing and a curse.

Yes, it had been relaxing not to venture into the unknown, he had never enjoyed a day without magic, archenemies, or near-death experiences, especially since his nephews were not involved in them; but his family was unhappy.

He couldn't bear to see his family unhappy.

At least not now. Because if he saw the adventures in a way that was normal, perhaps he had also been normal?

Maybe a normal voice?

"Don't even think about it Donnie." Donald looked up when he realized he had thought aloud, his hand resting gingerly at the base of his throat. Despite her amused smile, Della was frowning and the brightness in her gaze had dimmed. “Your voice is unique just like you, and I don't want to have a commercial presenter as a brother.”

Even so, the duck managed to smile and exalt a small laugh, though it sounded a bit forced. He hadn't realized how that twisted his sister's smile.

“Come oan lad. Ah know th’re maw be somethin’ else.” Scrooge immediately took a place among the twins to wrap them in his shoulders, watching the triplets chat with Gene as they rummaged through the treasures, how Webby had no problem joining the conversation; which would be normal if it wasn't because they still had scorpions surrounding them.

As if everything that happened was nothing more than his subconscious playing with him.

The warm smile that had invaded his uncle's face and the nostalgic one of his sister, Donald allowed himself to observe again the ducklings who, much to his regret and considering that he still had to apologize to them, did not seem to hold a grudge against him and instead had their beaming smiles of every day.

"There must be something you  always wanted to have," Della trailed off, stroking his knuckles in a way that felt too familiar. Perhaps there have been times in his life when his sister could become sweet when she wanted to, despite the multiple tantrums that could have occurred — they were still siblings, after all — but this seemed like a new facet.

Motherhood suited Della very well.

But in one way or another, it was the trigger Donald needed, again looking at the four children, who together had finally chosen to help Beakley with the scorpions while Louie fervently cared for the lamp in the front pocket of his sweater. Dewey and Webby were the most excited about getting their daily dose of adrenaline back, but that didn't stop Huey from hitting some with his book while avoiding stingers as much as possible, or Louie suggesting one thing or another to his siblings. Regardless of the circumstances and the way their personalities collided, the four of them found a way and worked as a team.

A team that held together despite the multiple adversities that arose on its way and found the strength to continue. Even when the issue of the Spear finally came to light, his nephews had remained united, and they had no trouble keeping Webby by their side and reintegrating her even as she made a plan for them to return to Scrooge. When they do not know if they will return from the Shadow War being Magica notoriously more powerful than any enemy they have faced.

Huey, Dewey and Louie (and Webby) had always managed to stay together.

Scrooge and Della (and sometimes he) had accomplished the same, as if the eleven-year absence had never occurred. He didn't care if their ties had grown stronger while he was away —  it wasn't the first time this had happened anyway, he was used to it.

He could easily be seen in a team in the company of José and Panchito, since they met in the cabana in their college days. But even if he had no difficulty venturing even with the bombastic but carefree attitudes of his companions reminding him of his sister, he had always detected more chemistry among the Latin birds. And while he loved Xandra and Kay K, for obvious reasons they weren't the friends he could invite over coffee or hang out no matter how much he wanted to see them again.

And he was sure that, even in pairs, his nephews had found a way to work together. Maybe he needed his own team to gradually delve into the dynamics of his family?

Yes, part of him disagreed one hundred percent. He had chosen to completely give up on adventures the instant he knew his sister had taken the Spear of Selene behind his back, but what else could he do when he couldn't even take a relaxing vacation? He missed spending time with the children, even if it was getting involved in one of their shenanigans; and after being ten years estranged from his uncle and eleven from his sister, he doubted he wanted to spend more time away from them — and now that he was holding them like a vice grip he feared they would fade again if he released them.

But he accepted it, he wanted to enter his family's definition of normalcy once again. Perhaps the first step was to get used to this conception, but he knew that he could not alone. He had always been able to count on their help after all, and he doubted that after so long they would stop.

He just hoped that Gene would agree.

"I'm ready to make my last wish," he snapped, making Della and Scrooge jump. Doubting he had stopped hugging them, patting their shoulders gently before approaching the genie, an assertive smile forming on his face as he finished paraphrasing the desire in his mind.

There was something he had always wanted to have.

"At your command, sir." Reverence might have been exaggerated, but being locked up for around two decades might be justification enough. Furthermore, the modest smile on his face demonstrated the patience he had had while he collapsed.

Fortunately Scrooge and his sister had focused on removing the scorpions from Goofy's overnight body, otherwise they would have considered their discretion in making the suspicious wish.

Who might suspect Donald Duck anyway?

“A picture?” Ending to hang the framed photograph, he did not allow his nephew's sarcastic comment to affect him — or at least show that it did not affect him — hearing him wince, along with the already recognized drumming that Dewey's webbed feet cause in the wood. “Did you spend your last wish on a stupid framed photo when I can easily make one on my cell phone?!”

Donald knew that in the blink of an eye he could reproach Louie for the vocabulary, but he knew his nephews well enough to know that his scolding would fall on deaf ears, smiling at the warm homecoming that is listening to the comments bathed in irony of his family. He heard Louie's phone flash in the background as he took the photo.

He didn't know how much he had missed that.

"You could have made infinite wishes, or become a genius yourself!" Louie was growling under his breath, but Donald had watched enough fantasy movies as a child to know that those wishes usually ended badly as tempting as they were, but that didn't fade the smile on his face.

After all, he was satisfied with his wish.

"I like it," and Huey, the sensitive Huey, seemed so happy now that everything was settled, so delighted with his  last wish that, well, it made him not have the heart not to object.

Besides that he was also in love with it.

"It’s perfect” how could he not be when it included the whole family doing what they did best, which was to venture? It was amazing how quickly could change a person's mind if they wanted to; even he, who accepted the change weighed on him, was surprised.

It must be that a part of him was anxious about what would happen from now on that he had chosen to go into the unknown with them. Or maybe it was his subconscious playing with him. Again.

"Well Uncle Donald, you know we'd like to stay here, but we have to go; Mom proposed a game afternoon” Dewey sounded apologetic despite the seconds of silence, but still he could hear his sad smile and his body moving.

"Okay, you know the doors will always be open to you." He smiled at them over his shoulder. Maybe they weren't spending as much time in the houseboat as he would like, but that didn't stop him from wanting to remind them that that would always be their home and that they would always be welcome, no matter if they had a bad day or just wanted to hang out — which It was rare, but it didn't make it totally strange.

“Yes!” The triplets chanted happily, catching Donald off guard when they hugged him, the three pairs of arms encircling his waist, but he hadn't managed to reciprocate before webbed feet traversed the wooden floor, exiting the escape hatch before which Donald couldn't help but giggle.

He loved those boys, and as long as he had that perfect framed photo as part of his collection and his family continued to stay together — as it should have been eleven years ago — he would be fine.

He was sure he didn't thank Goofy enough for his prompt service.

But before he could take another step, a soft knock on his door was heard, confusing him. After accompanying Goofy on his long journey back to Spoonerville, the last thing he expected was to receive visitors. Della would spend the rest of the day with the boys, Launchpad had taken his uncle to the Money Bin, and Beakley's visits were rare.

Honestly, now that he was alone, what he needed most was to go to the other side of the city, growling when they knocked again.

“I'm going!” Perhaps he raised his voice more than stipulated, but he couldn't help it. He was in a hurry and was not there to attend to anyone right now.

The strange detail is that he did not usually receive visitors except that it was his sister and his nephews, who never had the decency to knock. Perhaps the only exception were José and Panchito, but they were too indiscreet.

“How can I help you?” He slammed the door open, his expression blank before the white-feathered duck in front of him. Trying not to feel overwhelmed by his tall stature, his groomed jet hair, and his sparkling emerald eyes. He was raising his fist, ready to knock once more.

Especially when they get wide and started scanning him with taut features. Needless to say, his shoulders did not tense. Suddenly he felt threatened.

"Hey! What is the big idea?!” He clenched his fists and grind his teeth. He really didn't have time for this.

He was about to slam the door when the other duck's hand stepped in, opening it with superhuman strength for someone who looked so… puny? Exalting apologies over and over again that did not anything but confused the sailor.

“Sorry, sorry! It's just that…” He inhaled and exhaled, his chest rising and falling apace, his body relaxing as if a burden was suddenly released from his shoulders, laughing sourly with a raspy voice but that revealed self-confidence “it has been years, but seeing you again Donald, it's as if all this time nothing had happened.”

His voice had broken, but that only increased the duck's bewilderment. That had served to partially deflate his anger, but that didn't stop him from feeling his blood boil. He was already wasting a lot of time. That a stranger knew his name was not strange when being the nephew of someone globally recognized as his uncle, but a very different thing is that it was exclaimed with so much trust.

“Excuse me, but do I know you?” And perhaps he sounded so confused that it must explain the incredulous expression of the man in front of him, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown.

He laughed again, with the sole exception that he now sounded more forced, brushing a lock of hair from his face with a nervous smile at a look that tried not to fade like an old firefly — literally, being overshadowed by the rays of the sun that still hovered over Duckburg.

Perhaps his photographic memory was declining, but he was sure that if he had met someone with an appearance as attractive as the man in front of him, perhaps he would have noticed it. Yes, there was something about his gaze that was vaguely familiar, but he didn't like creating or creating himself hopes when there surely wasn't.

"You can't, you can't be serious Don," he looked so radiant that he would even feel bad about upsetting him, grinning sardonically, clearing his throat as he felt the tension in Donald's body, "it's me, Uno!"

The moment that name had been mentioned, those green irises glowing instantly, Donald felt his legs tremble, holding on to the door frame. He trembled in shock, feeling his eyes burn.

That was not what he had in mind when he made his wish, much less so quickly — at least, until he remembered who was in front of him.

That was not what he expected, but he could not say that he was not satisfied because it would be a vile lie.