Don't own DuckTales
Authors note: I'm an amateur at this. I'm not at all near professional and the past few days of uploading my Ducktales story I keep updating it because I'm trying to figure out how I want it laid out and all. I figured at least 2k- 3k words a chapter and one up every week or five days. If I even have the chapter written by then. But I am determined to finish this story no matter how many views it gets because I'm obsessed with this show and need a creative outlet. It also improves my writing so eh... Enjoy. :)
CHAPTER 1
The patter of rain battling against the window showed evidence of the broken record drought in the city. Most of Duckburg still slept as this occurrence continued though, and as the dark monster clouds continued to engulf the city, it made its way to McDuck Manor. However, Donald liked to think over these ten years of caring for the triplets that he had gotten better at actually being able to sleep even through the loud noises of hard winds and usually the hollering of the boys. Apparently sleep wasn't a big thing in his agenda, before and after, living with the snobby trillionaire duck because as the storm blew away trees so did his opportunity to keep sleeping.
A sigh escaped the duck's mouth as he stared up annoyingly at the ceiling of his boat room. He could feel the growing waves in the giant pool move his boat like it would on the ocean, and it had almost rocked him asleep again if it wasn't for the rain inevitably making noise. It reminded him of the times that were literally just three weeks before with the boys bouncing around the boat and yelling at each other to be quiet. He knew he would turn his head to read the clock and it would be another few hours when he would start losing his temper and began handing out punishments for waking him up, but that would be a few weeks ago.
A few weeks since those devious boys tricked their babysitter to going to a different address in who knows where and his only choice of having to confine with Scrooge to watch them. At these few seconds of time to himself he wished for the times on the ocean, but there was no doubt in his mind that the boys would get into bigger trouble and danger if he waited any longer. He just guessed that time came earlier than he thought.
Shaking his head, Donald pulled his old blanket away from his body not even flinching at the cold air from years of having to do the same thing every cool morning for his probable one day job. "I really need to start that new schedule of sleeping in." He mumbled to himself, pulling his body weight from his bed and over to the closet. The doors creaked opened as he hastily grabbed his blue raincoat and tugged it on.
The duck prepared himself for what was to come as he met the exit of the boat house and slowly tried to open the main door, but the wind barged in and threw the door banging against the outside wall. Rain poured in through the opening, and he had to put his arms up to protect his face from the needle like lashes as he barreled into the darkness. Getting the door shut was the most challenging part of his early morning, he quickly realized upon having his hands slip from the handle a fourth time.
He felt anger boil up in his body. He narrowed his eyes dangerously and let out one of his fits similar to the one during the staple incident and slammed the door shut not caring if it even clicked shut as he stiffly turned and trudged out of the boat and into the trillionaire's house.
Relief finally settled in when his back straightened up against the manor's side entrance door after violently shutting it behind him. He was tired, and he was betting the need of a coat was no longer needed. Donald, breathing hard, silently watched water drip from the tip of his beak and down to the wooden floors, creating a small puddle to add to the much larger one gathering around his feet. He needed a moment to gather himself again.
"Are you going to stand there all morning or are you going to go get dried up?" A British voice addressed him, breaking the silence.
He didn't have to look up to know it was the crazy housekeeper. Looking up was almost too much effort for him, so instead he nodded while lowering his head until it hit his chest. "Right…" It was his best chance of communication with the woman at this hour as he walked away from her.
Ms. Beakley didn't say a word as she watched him take his leave, and only an audible sigh left her when she stared at the water tracks, shaking her head.
Dewey didn't exactly know how long he slept when he awoke abruptly in the dark. It had actually felt like he didn't sleep at all, and the second he looked over to the two other twin beds across the room his thoughts of no sleep diminished. He remembered Huey being awake and reading his book before Dewey had promptly decided to go to sleep.
He rubbed his eyes roughly and brought his blue comforter higher up to his chin as he sat up. A draft must have came in, he concluded, staring longingly at his brothers who were asleep. There was no way he was gonna be able to go back to sleep now that he was hearing the storm from outside and noise downstairs. Dewey frowned in thought. What could he do in this super early morning? Not even Webby or Scrooge would be up at this time, at least not for a little while longer, but then who was being so loud downstairs?
With that in mind, Dewey jumped out of bed and silently bounced out of the room, dodging random things on the hardwood floor. When he got to the door, he paused and considered the thought of actually picking up some of those things. If he cleaned up their room now, he would most likely get tired enough to fall back asleep. The only downside to that was actually having to clean, and he was pretty sure that expertise went to the one and only Ms. Beakley.
He snickered quietly, entering the dimly lit hallway and making sure to keep the door open a crack. Dewey made his way towards the stairs and took note of the many trophies Scrooge hung up on his walls. He went as far as wiping a finger across a metal boot looking artifact and silently wondered if it would come to life and attack him, but after inspecting the amount of dust collected on his finger he knew this was a waste of time.
Another five minutes passed, and he still wasn't feeling the effects of drowsiness he was hoping for. He really wanted to go back to bed where it was warmer, but he was too restless to do so. He briefly stopped and wondered that maybe if he went into the garage that he'd stumble onto something that would no doubt make him have to go on some adventure that would wipe him out completely. Then it also occurred to him, once in a blue moon, that he'd probably get himself killed.
In frustration he balled up his fists and kicked the wall with his bare foot. A loud banging echoed followed by the sound of him yelping and jumping up and down with his hurt foot in hand.
He could be really stupid and this counted as one of those times. He knew that and didn't need to be told it. He remembered the many times he's gotten in trouble for jumping before looking where he was gonna land. It had become a hobby of his, and his brothers knew to either agree with him and make sure he didn't get hurt or tie him up to a chair and be sure to keep a watchful eye, so it was no surprise to him that he picked up some of Uncle Donald's little episodes that he's so known for.
Dewey almost wanted to laugh at that, and he would have if he wasn't interrupted from his thoughts. He felt something wet under his foot before he was suddenly feeling gravity take hold and was staring up at the ceiling with an aching back.
"Ugh…" He moaned into the vacant hallway that became more colder than before, and he shortly wondered if the floor was always this hard or if it was just him.
Why was there water on the floor? More importantly how come he didn't notice it? Did that mean there was some kind of water monster in the manor? He could feel the water slowly soaking into his nightshirt and the chilly floor becoming even more so. The duck squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking in the throbbing feeling that spread throughout his body. Maybe he could just stay right here and fall asleep. A couple hours in this position wouldn't hurt, right? Eyes opening, he reminded himself of what his brothers would do if they found him like this. With their crazy thinking, they'd probably draw a mustache on him or make him look like a murder scene and that was the best outcome because blackmail would no doubt come up as well and waking up to being in a pink dress was not funny a third time.
"Well good morning."
Dewey frowned, lifting his back up off the ground and turning to see Webby smiling down at him. "Uhh… hi?"
She cocked her head to the side and shifted in her purple flower nightgown already full of energy. "So did you just come from outside or is there a leak in the roof?"
"What?" He was standing up by now bent over with a hand on his hip, aiding himself to straighten out.
Webby took a few bouncing steps forward. "You're all wet, so I thought- Eek!" Her feet came out from under her where the puddle of water sat quietly waiting for its prey, and she threw her hands out in an attempt to catch herself on something, but came up with nothing as Dewey tried to grab her hand. They both ended up back to the hard floors and legs up in the air.
"You know," Dewey started, huffing at being on the floor once again, "just because I slipped doesn't mean you have to too."
A scowl was enough for him to shut his beak and turn his head back to the way he was heading. "Right. Yeah, i'll just get going." Dewey stated, standing up and brushing off his clothes like the water would magically come off.
"I'll come with you," Webby all but shouted and scrambled to her feet to join him to the stairs. "But we should really clean that up."
Dewey shrugged. "Nah, that's why Scrooge hired you're grandma." It didn't come out rude as Webby jumped ahead of him and slid down the railing. "How do you do that?"
She gave him a questioning look when she landed on the first floor without so much as a sound. "What do you mean? I see you do things like that all the time."
The blue duck took tentative steps down the stairs, knowing that another fall was not in his interests. "I'm pretty sure i've never surfed down a railing before."
"You slid down the stairs with your Uncle's surfboard from Puerto Rico a few days ago."
Dewey stopped short on that comment with wide eyes. "How did you learn about that?"
"What? I-I don't know what you're talking about?" She quickly ended, crossing her arms in defiance and avoiding his face even when he stepped off the stairs and gave her a scrutinizing look.
"You sure? Because on that particular day i'm pretty sure you were out with Lena, right?" Dewey poked her in the ribs, earning him a loud squeak.
"I have cameras!" She burst out, breathing heavily like she was holding it in for years. She was met with a look from Dewey that prompted her to explain more. "I have cameras… I set them up around the house when you guys moved in."
"Why…?" He wasn't sure if this was just normal for Webby or if she was really going the extra mile with the whole friend thing. "Hold on. Where did you put them?" A different question came to mind, knowing Webby's little trait of stalking others.
She swallowed. "Oh you know… the basic layout areas. All the rooms I could get in, the hallway, kitchen, front door, living room-"
Dewey shook his head. "Nope. No. Nevermind. As long as they aren't in my room and the bathroom, I don't care."
"Well…"
"As long as they aren't in my room and the bathroom, I don't care." He repeated, narrowing his eyes at her in a warning. Webby looked down at the ground and dug her foot into the floor. Dewey's eyes softened, and he made a slight move to walk away but shook his head and grabbed Webby's hand, pulling her with him to the kitchen. "let's go get a snack."
Webby followed without a complaint. "The pink fluffy sugar snacks, right?"
"Well I mean you can have one of those, but i'm taking that slice of chocolate cake."
"What!?" Webby planted her foot on the ground and yanked Dewey back. "That's Scrooge's cake!"
Dewey scrambled to place a hand over her mouth before anything else slipped through. "I know, I know, but Scrooge isn't gonna eat it." He yelped in disgust when Webby licked his hand and was quick to try to wipe it off. "That's grosser than Louie picki-"
"That cake is one of the finest cakes ever made! The bakers at Spring Cakes are known to be the best and most experienced in the entire world and to even take one bite of that cake you would be blown away from the amount of texture and taste piled in one single slice is beyond our life."
"I'm still not understanding-"
"Scrooge has been talking about eating that expensive cake for weeks! And now that it's been delivered you're just gonna eat it?"
Dewey turned away from her and hastily went into the kitchen room, avoiding the drying up water trail. "For a change of subject i'm pretty sure someone, Donald, was the one who's making these water puddles." He didn't wait for a reply and skipped around the kitchen island to the giant stainless steel fridge.
"Breakfast I see."
Dewey jumped back in surprise and smacked his side into the counter, resenting the almost quacking sound that escaped him. "Do you guys train to sneak up on people or something!?" He yelled, throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation before wincing at his arm's throbbing. "I just wanted to get back to sleep…" He lamely ended in defeat.
Webby came up behind him with a big smile and patted his back. "Grandmother didn't mean it."
"Right…" He brushed it off, ignoring the housekeeper to open the fridge. He only had a second to search for the cake before the door was slammed shut revealing a large hand he was pretty sure was used to strangle people in the past.
"Let me rephrase. Breakfast is not for another few hours. Any reason why you're awake?" Beakley eyed Dewey and his wet clothes then flickered over to Webby who was sheepishly trying to hide behind the counter.
Dewey half smiled up at her, hoping she would just walk away. When the seconds ticked by, his smile fell, and he sighed in defeat. "Fine! I can't sleep and came down here to see what was up with the noise. Turns out it was just you-"
She nodded. "Cleaning your Uncle's mess."
"Yes, cleaning and being all noisy." He finished, crossing his arms over his chest and wishing that he never came downstairs in the first place.
Beakley gave him a strange look before turning her back to them and picking up a mop that was lazily leaned up against the white wall. "It is not my job to watch you, Dewey. My job is to keep things orderly and clean, so carry on with what you were doing." She silently inspected the floors and walked to the exit. "I do have to watch Webby though, so she better stay out of trouble."
Webby nodded rapidly and jumped up and down from behind the counter agreeing with her grandmother immediately. "Of course! I'm allergic to trouble anyways, so you don't have to worry about me! Except-" Dewey gave her a look. "Uhh… Nevermind. Have a good morning, grandmother!"
Dewey watched Beakley inflate a bit and walk away into the shadows of the house to continue cleaning up the water trails. "Okay then…" He turned away, opening the fridge the second time that morning. "Cake, cake, cake, where does Scrooge put his cake?"
"Check the-"
"Found it!" Dewey exclaimed, pushing back other food contents and bringing out a heavily chocolate covered cake from the back. As he put it in his arms to carry it, he felt the actual weight of the enormous cake. "Webby, a little help would be nice." He hinted over his shoulder.
"Hmm?" The girly duck half listened to Dewey as she stuck her head in a shelf above the stove. "How about you tell me instead where those pinky snacks are."
Dewey grumbled to himself as he watched her hunt for the snacks and trudged over to the counter, feeling the heavy weight of cake pull him down. Did those bakers put rocks in this or what? "Webby…" He tried once again hands slipping ever so slightly from the silver platter tray.
He must have looked like an idiot, he thought. Barely being able to stand with a giant cake in his hands moments away from ending up on the floor. He wondered how something like a thought of a slice of cake could end up to him inching closer to the table and probably a lot closer to trouble if it fell. "Please, please, please just hold on a bit longer." Dewey prayed.
"I still can't find the-"
"Webby!" He shouted for her attention again as his small muscles shook from the short exertion and finally gave way. "NO!" It was almost slow motion as the weight pulled the cake and himself down to the unforgiving hard floor.
"Hey Dewey, I bet they're in the fridge so they don't melt- oh no." Webby hopped off the counter from the other side of the kitchen with wide eyes. "You're in so much trouble." She ended with, staring at the scene.
"Webby! I asked for help! -And stop laughing!" Dewey shouted, spinning around.
"I'm trying-" she giggled even harder, forgetting about the pink treats. "but-" Webby cut herself off, falling to her knees with tears in her eyes. "You look absolutely ridiculous!" She fell on her side, howling in hysterics.
"Webby!" Dewey yelled at her again. He looked down at himself, wiping his hands down the front of his sleep shirt to try and scrub the chocolate off. "Geez, now I literally look like the cake." Pieces of cake stuck to him and crumbled in moist parts as he pulled at it, and to make things worse the chocolate frosting smeared deeper into his cotton shirt, leaving behind large brown spots.
It took five minutes of watching Dewey slip and fall in chocolate for Webby to be able to collect herself enough to stand back up and wipe at her eyes. "Do you need a wash cloth?" She offered, smiling wide.
"I think I need a shovel to get all this cake off." Dewey replied, not at all amused.
Webby continued to laugh as she pulled a rolling drawer out from next to the stove and took out a hand towel. After running it under some water, she handed it back to Dewey with shaking hands from barely held in chuckles. "I'm guessing the cake tasted so good you couldn't help yourself." She joked.
"I'm still not finding this funny." Dewey shot back, looking at the tip of his chocolaty finger and licking it clean. "Actually it does taste pretty good though." He admitted, grabbing a broken piece of cake from the ground and stuffing it in his mouth.
"Now that's disgusting!" Webby exclaimed.
Dewey looked over his shoulder at her and carefully grabbed a handful of cake laying on the ground in a pile. "What are you talking about? Beakley cleans these floors like every hour. You could eat off them if you wanted to which I am." He concluded, swiftly turning with a mischievous look in his eye and catapulting the dessert at Webby.
Unsurprisingly she dodged it with some sort of flip and narrowed her eyes at him. "Remember the Nerf bullets?" She asked.
Dewey's eyes widened to the size of plates and took a large step backwards away from her. "Hold on, Webby. There's no need to repeat that."
She smiled even bigger at him and stepped forward with confidence, putting on a pose of a superhero.
Her moment of spot light ended quickly though when a thought popped in Dewey's head. "My brothers."
"What?" Webby frowned and looked over at him.
He gave her a sly look as a plan formed. "My dear brothers have been pulling pranks on me for the past week, so why don't we get back at them?" He asked wickedly.
The idea dawned over her as she began thinking about the possibility of pelting her friends with cake like some type of raid. "That sounds fun."
He nodded, glancing at the mound of chocolate and grabbing two towels out of the drawer. "Here." He handed them to Webby. "Put some cake in these."
