Author's Note: This idea wouldn't leave me alone. I decided to start getting it out so my brain wouldn't be as crowded. For the record, I did do some research on the NHL and California law for this story. I'm going to try to blend it with artistic license to make the story plausible, but I make no guarantees that everything will be completely accurate.

Disclaimer: I don't own the show, Disney does. I am not in any way affiliated with Disney, the NHL, its commissioner Gary Bettman, or any branch of the California government.

Phil Palmfeather sat at his desk staring at the papers in his hand. He'd been looking over potential endorsement deals all afternoon. Any one of them would turn a hefty profit. Of course, he'd have to get Wildwing and the other ducks to sign any deal he negotiated. Which would be about as easy as pulling out his own teeth. Still, the commission he'd receive would be more than worth the trial of convincing the team.

He was currently reading the fine print of an offer for a kitty litter commercial. 'So what if they don't have any cats? I'll still make a fortune!' he reasoned with himself as the landline rang.

"Anaheim Pond, home of the Mighty Ducks. How can I help you?" Phil recited as he picked up the phone. He'd never seen the need for a secretary when he could do the job himself just as easily (and without an extra salary to pay). He continued to flip through pages as he nestled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, listening to the person on the other end. "You're talkin' to him, boobala…Commissioner Bettman!" Phil set the papers down, leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, ready to schmooze the head of the NHL. "You know the ducks are really excited about playing in the finals. Been practicing nearly nonstop. I'm telling ya, those birds are going to win the Stanley Cup easier than…Problem? What problem?" He sat forward suddenly, feet crashing to the floor. He listened quietly, eyes widening as each second passed. Eventually he stood up and slammed his fist onto the desk, loose papers scattering about him.

"WHAT?!"

Wildwing watched the puck as it was cycled between the other members of the team. They were practicing their blind passing, trying to send the puck to one another without actually looking at each other. So far they were doing a good job, and Wildwing looked forward to seeing his teammates in action at the next game.

Mallory received the puck from Grin and sent it to Nosedive, who slapped the puck at the opening between Wildwing's legs, only to have goalie slide them together at the last second, blocking the shot.

"Nice try, baby bro. Going to have to be a little quicker next time."

Nosedive skated behind the goal, grabbing Wildwing's water bottle off the net and taking a swig. "You just got lucky, Wing."

Wildwing crossed his arms and smirked at the teen. "Right, lucky enough to be able to see the puck coming from a mile away. And keep your germs to yourself," he added as he took the water bottle out of Nosedive's hand and playfully pushed him back away from the net.

Turning back to the rest of the team, he sipped from the bottle himself. "Nice job today, guys. Let's call it quits for now."

"Not a minute too soon, Wing. Looks like ya gotta break Phil's heart again," Duke commented, gazing up into the stands as their manager trudged down the stairs, talking loudly on his cell phone and waving a magazine around.

"Not another publicity stunt," Tanya groaned.

"I sense bad karma," Grin added.

Wildwing sighed. "Don't worry, guys. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it."

The team skated over to bench, waiting to see what scheme Phil had concocted this time.

"Do you know what you've done to me? I screened the questions for a reason! And then you go and make up stuff on the spot!" Phil shouted into the phone. "I don't care if it was a 'relevant question in the moment,' you don't deviate from the list! You'll be lucky if you ever work in this town again!" Phil ended the call and turned his attention to the ducks.

"Problem, Phil?" Wildwing asked.

"You bet there's a problem, booby! And it's all because of this!" Phil tossed the magazine into Wildwing's chest, causing the mallard to catch it awkwardly.

Wildwing got a better hold of the magazine and looked at the cover. "'Seventeen'? You mean a teen magazine is what's got you so upset?"

"It's the latest issue…with Nosedive's interview," Phil replied, glaring at said duck.

The rest of the team followed Phil's gaze and looked at the teen, curiosity and suspicion etched on their faces. "All right, baby bro, what did you do?" Wildwing asked.

Nosedive threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, all I did was answer the questions. I don't know why Phil's so riled up. He practically forced me into doing it."

"I'll tell you what you did," Phil growled, ripping the magazine out of Wildwing's hands and flipping through it. "There!" he cried when he got to the page he wanted. "Read it!" He handed the magazine back to Wildwing.

The duck cleared his throat and read it out loud. "Seventeen: 'What's your favorite food?' Nosedive: 'Tacos. Especially triple spicy ones.'"

"Gee, Phil, real shocking," Duke commented sarcastically.

"What, was he supposed to endorse Wiener World or something?" Tanya joked.

"Keep going," Phil told Wildwing.

"Seventeen: 'When's your birthday?' Nosedive: 'July first. At least I think that's when we figured it was, what with the calendar differences between here and Puckworld.'"

"Yep," Tanya interrupted, nodding at Nosedive. "You got it right."

Wildwing continued reading. "'Seventeen: 'How old will you be?' Nosedive: 'Seventeen.'"

"There! You see?" Phil exclaimed. The team stared at him blankly. Phil sighed. "You can't be turning seventeen, Nosedive."

"You know Phil, you're right. I'll just tell the universe that it has to stop aging me and let me stay sixteen forever. I'm sure it won't mind. Hey, maybe you can negotiate the deal for me. Take the universe out for drinks or something," Nosedive snickered.

Phil threw his hands up in exasperation. "You don't understand! Sixteen or seventeen, it's against the rules!"

"What rules?" Wildwing asked.

"The NHL eligibility rules. You have to be at least 18 to play."

"So how's he been playing? You knew Nosedive was sixteen."

"Well, I might have gotten a little creative when the paperwork was filled out," Phil admitted, rubbing his neck sheepishly as Wildwing scowled.

"So in other words, you lied."

"Hey, I never lied. They just didn't ask the right questions. Anyways, that's not the point now," he added quickly as all the ducks glared at him.

"What is the point, Phil?" Mallory asked coldly.

"The point is that now we've got a boatload of trouble! The NHL commissioner called me furious. Apparently he's been getting calls from the government about having a minor in the League!"

"So what, I can't play now?" Nosedive asked. "That's totally lame!"

Phil shook his head. "It's worse than that, booby. The commissioner's coming here tomorrow for a meeting with you and the team, along with representatives from Social Services and the Department of Education. Apparently you're considered a 'truant minor' or something."

Mallory groaned. "Nice going, Phil."

"Yeah, and I thought you couldn't, uh, stoop any lower," Tanya added.

"Hey, hey, hey! What about all I've done for you guys, huh?" Phil retorted. "Who's the guy that made sure you had a place to live?"

"Your former lawyer, when he didn't look over our contracts closely enough," Duke answered.

"Well, technically, but who's the guy who gave you all a career? Who's the guy that convinced the NHL to give this team a chance? Who's the guy that got everyone legal residence status with the government? Who's the guy that kept the public from panicking when they found out that six alien ducks had landed on the planet?"

Wildwing rubbed his temples. "Okay, Phil, we get it. We owe you. A lot. And trust me, we're grateful for everything you've done for us. This just isn't the best situation to be in."

The team nodded. As much as they hated to admit it, Phil had saved them a lot of trouble when they'd first arrived on Earth. Of course, he'd been working overtime since then to give them all as many headaches as possible. And now he'd finally succeeded in handing out a mass migraine.

There was silence for a few minutes as everyone grappled with the situation. Nosedive finally broke it. "I'm not going to have to wear a suit or anything for this meeting, am I?" The team smiled at this, a few chuckles emitting from the ducks.

"Somehow I don't think it will matter too much, Dive," Wing answered, ruffling the teen's hair. "What time are all these people going to be here, anyway?" he asked Phil.

The manager shrugged one shoulder. "The commissioner said he'd be here around nine tomorrow morning. I'm assuming the others will be here then too, though I guess they could arrive sooner."

Wildwing nodded. "Well, Dive, I guess you don't need to worry about the suit, but you're going to have to be up early."

Nosedive groaned. "Great, as if this wasn't going to be bad enough. Now I'll be sleep deprived. "

"Go to bed early," Grin suggested as the ducks began skating towards the locker room.

Nosedive stared after him. "Why'd he choose now to start making sense?" he asked Wildwing.

"I don't know," he replied, "but it's not a bad idea."

"Not funny, Wing."

"Not trying to be. I want you in bed by ten. Up at six." Wildwing wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder as they started after their teammates. "Don't worry, Dive. Everything will work out fine."

"You sure bro?"

"Positive. After all, we've got Phil as our manager."

Nosedive snorted. "Yeah, it's not like he's ever managed to screw things up."

"Come one, baby bro. Even though he's annoying the vast majority of the time, Phil is usually excellent at his job."

"Yeah, usually."

"Have a little of faith in him, Dive. After all, his butt's on the line just as much as ours. He won't let anything too bad happen. And neither will I."