Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!
Title: Couponing
Summary: Webby discovers what a 'normal' Saturday morning is like in the Duck family.
...
By all stretches of the imagination, Webby had the strangest sleep schedule out of anyone in the manor. That is, to say, she didn't have one.
Why would she? In a world made up of empty rooms, empty libraries, and old men she was supposed to avoid, Webby had no time constraints to her name. True, her grandmother tried to corral her into bed at a certain time, but it wasn't like she had much room to talk either, with her penchant of vanishing at odd hours to do mysterious jobs.
The mansion's surface held no secrets from Webby. That included how it looked and creaked in the night.
But, while the mansion itself was familiar to her, other ducklings weren't. Webby didn't really know the hows or whys of bedtimes, so she simply made it her goal to avoid their wing of the building entirely. So far, it seemed to be working.
Until one prime Saturday morning, at the very start of four a.m., when Webby was pulled from an old tome by the sound of paper being snipped down the hall. She slipped out of her plush chair, setting her book on it as a way of marking it as her's. Her nightgown rustled around her ankles as she walked.
She came upon the boys, all in their typical pajama outfits, surrounded by newspapers.
Webby blinked, pretty sure her eyes were messing with her, but it doesn't dissipate. "What're you guys doing?"
"Couponing!" Huey chirped, entirely too awake, even by Webby's standards. "It's a Duck family tradition. Grab a paper and sit down."
"But get a glass of milk first," Louie advised, a cheap plastic cup near his elbow. "It makes the process more bearable."
Webby examined the table. Huey is making careful cuts, while Louie is more slapdash, and Dewey, face down on the table, is digging them out with one edge. "I think I'll make myself a cup of tea."
"Webbigail, do us all a favor and love yourself and your bones." The youngest triplet shoves the glass into her hand. "Drink milk like a sensible person."
Webby glanced at Huey, who shrugged. "He's a bit loopy before his fourth glass."
Dewey gives her a look to kill as she sits next to him, begrudgingly handing the scissors over. He promptly starts snoring onto the table. No one seems surprised by it, so Webby doesn't say anything. It takes them an hour to finish, and by then the typical weekend cartoons are on. They all curled up on the sofa, covered in blankets, and waited for the world to stir.
Author's Note: I have no idea, this came to me while taking a nice bath.
-Mandaree1