Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: Pulling a Louie

Summary: After Louie gets hurt in an attempt to nab more cash, Scrooge forces him to shadow him at work, and the two begin to realize they're a lot more alike then they might prefer.

...

Invader Johnny- Pretty much!

Jesus lover (February 3rd)- Thank you! =)

1234BlueLagoon- Thanks!

...

Louie glanced up from his knitting needles long enough to glare. "Stop looking so smug, you jerk. It just so happens that I've got a birthday coming up, and this is way easier than actually buying something."

"A birthday?" Scrooge mused, smiling.

"Yup. A birthday."

"I don't know anyone havin' a birthday anytime soon."

"And you're a crusty old man who doesn't have friends." Louie went back to it with vigor, tongue sticking out. "I'm not any of those things."

To his surprise, Scrooge let out a belly laugh. Louie stopped mid-knit to watch him from out of the corner of his eye. Scrooge slipped out of his comfy office chair and around the front of his desk, eventually coming to stand in front of the boy and his not-so-comfy metal chair, his elbows propped up on the table they'd played cards on. "Getting yer bandage off tomorrow, ey?"

"Seems like it."

"Yer glad ta' be rid of me and my stern old man ways, I'm sure."

"I'm certainly glad to be done with this evil institution- street name: work- that's for sure." Louie eyed him shrewdly. "That whole 'a lesson a day' bit didn't really stick, huh?"

"I dunno 'bout that. I'd like ta' think ye learned plenty." Scrooge twisted his cane back and forth. "And I've learned some things as well."

"Have you?" He set his knitting needles down and put his chin on his hands. "Is it super emotional feeling time, Uncle Scrooge?"

"In a matter of speakin'," he said. "I'm not a duck who enjoys most cliches, but I do like how this'un has worked out. You 'n me- we're a pretty odd duo. But we've made it work, and no one is worse fer wear. Yer a good lad, Louie. A mite bit paranoid, but a good lad."

"It's called anxiety, Scroogey, and I'll have you know it's more common in this household than you might like to think."

Scrooge nodded to show he'd heard. "Ye've got a good head on yer shoulders. Yer smart. Yew watch out fer the little guy."

"Launchpad is a lot of things, but he isn't little."

"Aye, but he is a skosh bit gullible."

"I won't deny that."

"Yer mother would be proud," Scrooge finished warmly, smiling. It dropped off his face like a ripped hot air balloon falling out of the sky. "Did yew jus' roll yer eyes?"

Louie's eyes snapped to his. His face was perfectly blank. "Nope. I just took my time looking at the ceiling and walls."

He took a step closer. "Was it... Della?" Scrooge let out a long sigh, crouching down on one knee with a pained grunt. "I know... I don't talk 'bout her very often. No one does. And I'm sure yew've got questions."

The boy's eyes slid closed. "Nope. Don't care."

Scrooge reached a hand out to touch his cheek. "Lad, ya' don't need ta' lie-"

Louie slapped him away before he could make contact. "I'm not lying. I don't care."

"Ye don't?"

"No."

He looked shocked. "Why not? Laddie, she was yer-"

"My mom." Louie wrinkled his beak. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for the reminder."

Baffled, Scrooge got back to his feet, leaning just a little on his cane. His knees weren't what they used to be. "She was the greatest pilot I ever knew, Louie. A great woman. Took after me quite a bit. I think she'd appreciate yer sense of humor."

The youngest triplet stared him down, eyes steady and unwavering. "Look. I get it. People like painting pretty little pictures of the people who leave. But I'm more of a glass half empty kind of guy, myself. Never did anything for me."

"Louie, yer talkin' nonsense."

"I'm not, really." Louie touched the yarn with one of his hands, as if soothing himself with it. "She was a good pilot? Cool. She took after you? Alrighty. That doesn't magically make her ditching us on Uncle Donald's doorstep any better."

"She didn't-"

"She kinda did."

Scrooge smacked the cane on the floor. Just one little tap. His face had turned an ugly shade of red. "Get outta me office."

Louie jumped, startled. "But-"

"Out." He thrust his finger toward the door. "If you cannae have any respect fer my kin, you cannae have any respect fer me. Get outta me sight."

He slammed his hands on the tiny table, almost sending it to the floor as he stood. "You can't force me to like a woman who abandoned us! If you want hero-worship, go to Dewey. He can't seem to get enough of her!" Louie grimaced at the thought. "But I'm not him. I'm me."

Scrooge pointed more harshly. "I said OUT!"

"Fine!"

He grabbed the cane he didn't really need anymore and left without even a goodbye, slamming the door behind him. Almost immediately after Louie began to feel sick, but he didn't turn back, reminding himself time and time again that he'd meant every word he said, no matter how much he felt antsy. It was just his mind hurting him.

Louie sat in the waiting room until it was time to leave, knees to his chest. He didn't cry.

Author's Note: Anxiety is a serious pain, ya'll. Even when you do something you know is good/necessary, your mind tries to pick you apart for it.

I highkey headcanon Louie is extremely salty and bitter about Della, since he's so into making sure no one cons his family but him, and he'd see Della leaving the as her 'conning' Donald, since she said one thing and did another. That said, I'm thinking there's only like three chapters left on this 'fic!

-Mandaree1