Disclaimer: Flamingly not mine.

A/N: Written for Challenge #184, Brothers, over at the KH Drabble community on LiveJournal.

A Treatise on Brotherly Love (Filled Out in Triplicate)

© Scribbler, April 2009.

"Don't look at me like that; it was on fire when I got here!"

Huey looked at Duey. Duey looked at Louie. Louie looked at the blazing shop and whistled.

"That's… not good."

"You reckon anyone will notice?" Duey asked with a furtive glance over his shoulder, as though someone in a dark costume might loom out of the shadows on the rooftop behind them.

Huey joined Louie in staring at the fire, but also flicked his gaze around the crowd frantically passing things out the front door. Fire truck sirens shrieked like ancient women mourning their dead. "I think they already noticed." Even so, he found himself pulling his red cap down over his eyes as if to hide his face. "We're in so much trouble. How did it happen?"

"How should I know?" Duey yelped, also pulling his blue cap low. They often mimicked each other without realising it, some throwback to being triplets. "I told you, it was like this when I got here."

"You assumed we're to blame before you even asked what happened," Louie observed. "This could be completely unrelated to us. It could be a random arson attack, or an electrical fault, or -"

"Or an unattended popcorn machine," Huey interrupted, remembering how Louie, lost in his own private dream-world, once allowed the Poppy McPopper to burn out and cost them a lot of munny in repairs.

Louie shrugged with typical aplomb. He hadn't bothered to put on his cap when they rushed out of their apartment and hop-skipped up the fire escape to see the Emporium lighting up the night. His green pyjamas billowed in the breeze.

Scrooge's McDuck's Wonder Emporium peddled itself as the number one, one-stop-shop-'til-you-drop-don't-you-dare-stop establishment that Traverse Town couldn't possibly do without. Now, however, it seemed it would have to – unless shoppers wanted charcoal, or that authentic house fire fragrance.

Huey looked back at the shop. "We should probably go help."

"Yeah," Duey agreed with the enthusiasm he reserved for picking up cigarette butts with his beak, or being dunked headfirst into a vat of warm baby vomit. It was clear he also believed they, or something they'd done, had to somehow be responsible for this. "Probably."

A shadow passed overhead. Seconds later a small flying elephant sprayed a trunkful of water onto the blaze, then veered away to refill.

"Even Dumbo's helping," Louie remarked. "Isn't it funny how a crisis brings even the weirdest community together?"

"Hilarious." Huey shrank back from the edge of the roof. "Aw, crap."

"You cussed. Aerith said we're too young to cuss."

"Aerith thinks we're young enough not to mind when she spit-wipes our cheeks," Huey replied. "She's not right about everything, even if your crush makes you think so."

For the first time Louie looked discomfited. Odd, Huey reflected, how their shop being on fire couldn't do it, but bringing his brother's burgeoning hormones into it could. "I don't have a -"

"Aw, crap!" Duey cried. He'd seen it too.

The sleek car pulled up, but before the chauffer could reach the handle, the rear door had flung open and a duck in top hat, spats and a nightshirt hopped out. He waved his cane at the fire and danced up and down in a truly spectacular rant that made his status as uncle of Donald, the infamously short-tempered magician, obvious for all to see.

"Uncle Scrooge," said Louie. "Whoa, he looks mad. And I do not have a crush on Aerith."

Huey hung his head. "We're in so much trouble."

Fin.