Welcome back everyone! It's been awhile!
Ninja: It definitely is
Boss Teal: Jesus christ, I just read it. You have the right to delete a review you're not comfortable with.
Lilbree: aww, thank you :))) that actually means a lot. Hmmmmm ;)
The Not-So-Ultimate Writer: Big Bird all the way. You know what? I actually could see that happening. Huey has always had this sense of order, and this ideology that if he allows the JWG to run his life, then everything will be perfect. We literally see him have multiple mental breakdowns when things don't go according to plan, or something is not accurate, like Bubba. And when he does strain away "from the book", we see a lot of passion from him, like how he acts in the game Legends of Legend Quest in Happy Birthday Doofus Drake, after Della pulls him out of his comfort zone. So, yeah, maybe to unlock his "passion", Huey being pulled away from his comfort zone (The Junior Woodchucks), could be the key. To be honest, if the showrunners do go this route, I'll be upset, because they've spent 2 seasons basing Huey's character, only to take it away now? Yeah! Ross and Julie!
Guest: Me too :)
rosiesj: Thank you, Rosie! That means so much! Dewlet I can definitely see: I feel like they have a lot more potential than Huelet to be honest. Like their personalities definitely contrast one another, so I feel like there's more of a variety. But that doesn't mean I don't like Huelet, they're still one of my OTP's! I like the idea of Dewlet, but would I go out of my way to ship it? Probably not.
Let's Dewey It: Long time no see, man! Yep, when I was writing Launchpad's scenes, it made me hurt too.
Thecactus1: Aw, thank you! We love Donald!
The cactus1: (review for 13) Yeah! And I feel like for a dark story, it's difficult to teeter between dark and humorous. Yeah dude! And I know a lot of people are like, "Lemon scenes! Ew!" But in my own opinion, I feel like they're a very important part to a story. It depicts a lot, and it shows that your characters truly feel something towards one another. Yeah, and I tend to say this to a lot of authors: you can be a shitty writer, and write a whole story about socks. But, make sure your grammar and spelling are correct! Because if people see that, then they're bound to take you a lot more seriously. Hey man, if you need writing advice, my PM is always open!
Guest: LMAO, a lot of people think the story is done for some reason!
thatellaj: :)))))
Let's do it!
ooo
3 years ago…
Dewey stood by his bed, the four walls of his bedroom feeling like they were closing in on him a little more each day. Despite the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, he couldn't wait now to just leave, to run away and never have to spend another lonely distressing night here. He surveyed the bland room, his eyes running over the bare walls, sparse shelves and furniture tops, mentally calculating what else he had to pack and how much he needed to leave out on display to keep the pretense up just that little bit longer.
There was just one more night to go; one more night of hell to try and survive.
Grabbing a sweater from the back of his chair, he stuffed it into the open suitcase that sat on his bed. Satisfied that he'd packed all that he could get away with for tonight, he zipped it up. He was just about to hide it when he heard the apartment door open. Panicked, he hurriedly stashed it under the bed, kicking it as far as it would go, and straightening up just in time as his bedroom door swung open.
"There you are," Webby offered him a gorgeous smile. He was going to miss it, he was sure of that; he suspected despite his best efforts not to, that he would be haunted by that lovely smile for years to come.
"You found me," he quipped, although there was no humor in his voice, no light in his sunken eyes, he was barely holding it together now but he had to; he had to hold onto this crappy reality for just a little longer.
It was almost time.
"We're about to do presents."
"Already?" he frowned. He wasn't in the mood for presents. Wasn't in the mood for company, for people… for life.
"Yeah, well if you think the four of us are off to Long Island tomorrow, that only leaves you and Lena, not much of a celebration." Webby giggled.
"Oh yeah, you're, uh all going to your folks for Christmas, Max too, I'd, er forgotten about that," he lied badly fumbling over his words, and she frowned at him, a familiar look on her face as of late.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her dark eyes full of concern.
Her hand reached out, no doubt intent on a comforting touch to his arm but he took a hasty step back managing to avoid her.
"I'm fine, just tired and grouchy," he dismissed somewhat apologetically.
She was still staring at him, trying to figure him out and he shifted uncomfortably: she was always the one it was hardest to hide it from, but he had no choice. Dewey had to hide this from Webby, she couldn't find out the truth; she couldn't find out anything until he'd left.
Gone.
Abandoned them all…
She frowned. "You sure I can't help with anything?"
He almost hated that she cared for him so much. "I'm fine, I–"
"Hey!" Max bounced through the open bedroom door, saving Dewey from having to make up any more awkward lies. "There you guys are! You finally managed to drag him out of his room?" he teased, his arm casually slipping around Webby's waist pulling her to him. Dewey looked away, still hating the casualness of their interactions and how much he was still impacted by it. "I swear you've been packing for hours, how long are you staying with your mom for?"
"I was, uh wrapping presents." Dewey lied quickly.
"This late?" Webby shook her head, "Have I taught you nothing, Dew?"
"At least I bought them on time," he muttered.
In reality it hadn't been a hard Christmas shop this year. One present. One pathetic present for his secret santa, which ironically turned out to be Max. What was he supposed to buy the lucky bastard that already had everything Dewey wanted?
He wasn't even going to see his mom this holiday, it was all a ruse to get him to Cape Suzette, where no one waited for presents. No one was waiting. No concerned gazes, no thoughtful looks… no friends.
He'd be alone.
"Oh Dewey, I keep forgetting to ask," Webby started, still contently leaning back against her boyfriend's chest. "Are you bringing a date to the New Year's party?"
He blinked, ripping his thoughts away from his new life in Cape Suzette, and trying to focus on the last few remaining hours of his old life. Just one more night and then he'd be free of the chains that still held him here.
"Dewey?"
"Huh?"
"Do you need a plus one?" she repeated, frowning yet again.
"What?" he blinked, directing his gaze onto her worried face.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
He didn't deserve her constant concern; if only she knew what he was planning.
"Uh," he shook his head trying to clear it and get his act together. He was too close to breakdown and ruined it now.
"You didn't eat any of Lena's 'special' mince pies, did you?" Max laughed, his arms still holding Webby.
He tried to fake a smile but wasn't able to hold it for long. Everything was taking so much more effort. He couldn't wait to not have to be around them any more, to not have to fake the smiles and mask the constant pain he felt.
"You know Webby's the cook of the group, always will be," he murmured.
"Thank you," Webby offered. "But New Year?" she prompted. "Are you seeing it in with a date by your side? I need to know numbers."
Oh.
"Uh…"
"You need someone to kiss at midnight, buddy," Max informed him, as if he wasn't aware of the stupid tradition, "I've got mine in the bag, right babe?" he chuckled, before leaning down and kissing her.
He watched as his roommate's lips softly pressed against hers. Watched with a sharp pain in his chest as her lips curved into a beautiful smile afterwards as they stared at each other before leaning in again. Did they really have to do that here? This was his only private space, somewhere that was meant to be his solace
"No date, I'll uh take my chances," he swallowed looking away.
It was weird to think he didn't know where he'd be for New Year. Would he stay alone in his hotel room, being eaten by guilt and worrying about what he'd left behind? Or would he be trying to forget everything and attempting to make a new life for himself, going to some Tulscan night club and seeing in the New Year with hope, a fresh start?
That's all he needed. A fresh start.
"Hey, what are you all doing over here?" Huey asked as he came to the doorway, taking in the small crowd. "Don't tell me you're actually letting the boys host this pre-Christmas shindig?"
"Hell, no!" Webby laughed, tugging Max's hand. "Where's Vi?"
Dewey looked once more around his room, his gaze landing briefly on his bed and the concealed suitcase hidden underneath, before he sighed heavily and trailed along behind, half-listening as Huey prattled on about his girlfriend's whereabouts. He didn't care. His mind was too preoccupied with the fact that this would be the last evening they all spent together.
Ever.
He was actually going to run, escape from this nightmare… he was actually going to do this.
He had his plane tickets and hotel reservations hidden in his bedside cabinet as proof this was real; he had his new boss waiting for him on Monday, thrilled that he had volunteered to work over the holidays. Everything was all planned out; he was committed.
There was no backing out now.
Despite the familiar numbness, he briefly contemplated whether he was making the right choice.
They were all sitting around the seating area, Lena crossed legged on the floor singing some random made up carol. Max and Webby all snuggled up on the couch, giggling with each other. The Christmas tree, perfectly decorated so carefully by Webby, was set up in the window just like it was every year, creating the perfect backdrop to this perfect setting.
If only he could feel a part of it. He didn't. He felt detached, his heart already too broken and abused and he knew for sure he didn't belong here anymore.
He had no choice.
His decision was made.
God, he felt like a traitor, a fake. Sitting with them, pretending to laugh and smile and care. They trusted him and he was going to betray them all tomorrow. He felt like Judas; he was scum and soon they'd all know.
"Earth to Dewey!" Lena laughed and he blinked looking over to her.
"Huh?" he hoped his voice didn't sound as detached from reality as he felt right now.
He just had to keep it together for one more night, he could do this.
"Your present?" Lena frowned, holding out the neatly wrapped gift.
"Oh," he blinked again, slowly focusing on the offered present that she was waving in front of him.
"You okay?" she asked, her concerned frown deepening, the gift faltering slightly.
Crap, he didn't need any more questions, especially not in front of everyone. Like Webby, he knew Lena suspected something was seriously wrong, but as usual he forced himself to lie to her. It would be better in the long run.
"Yeh, sorry, I'm good," he tried to dismiss casually as he reached for the package, taking it from her. "Just a little tired."
"I didn't get much sleep either last night," Max laughed as Webby shushed and whacked him playfully.
He faked a hint of a smile but knew it looked more like a grimace, and just hoped no one was paying him any attention. He really wished he wasn't here, wished he wasn't having to watch them flirt together all evening. Why hadn't he left yesterday? Just uped and left in the cover of the night instead of having to wait for them to go away, drawing the torture out.
"You gonna open it?" Huey prompted.
Dewey blinked in surprise, noticing with a wince that everyone was staring at him; his eyes quickly darted to the gift he had forgotten he was holding.
"Yeah sure," he muttered, slightly embarrassed.
"You must be really tired," Huey observed. "Maybe you're coming down with something?" Huey's big brother instincts kicked in.
Dewey ignored him, desperate to just open the damn thing, try to fake a smile and then have the attention move off him. With shaking fingers, it took Dewey several attempts to tear into paper, revealing a small photo frame. Pulling it out completely he studied it further, and he swallowed, the ever-present knife in his chest twisting painfully.
It was a picture of the whole gang, one taken months ago before his world had started to crumble, before the catalyst of him having to leave had started. It captured their naïve happy faces. Their innocence in youth.
Did the others somehow know?
Were they mocking him with this, or calling his bluff?
He felt the glossy eyes behind the glass staring at him, glaring accusingly as if they knew too. He felt hot, his throat tight and dry as he tried to swallow.
"Do you like it?" Webby asked, eager to please as always.
"It's, uh it's great… t-thanks," he stammered, not even looking up at her, instead his eyes stayed fixed on the photo, telling himself it was all in his head, his crazy mixed up imagination.
No one knew his dirty little secret.
It was just a photo of better times, much better times. He couldn't believe how much happier and healthier his younger self looked, so carefree and relaxed. Had he ever really felt like that? It was hard to imagine now. How had it all changed so quickly? How had it all fallen apart so horribly?
"I thought it might help cheer you up," Webby commented, "I know you see us all the time but maybe you could put it on your desk at work?"
He wouldn't. He wasn't even sure if he'd take it with him or leave it behind with the rest of the memories of this life. An unwanted souvenir.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Aw, that's an awesome present, baby," Max praised her, leaning down to kiss her, making her beam with happiness at the praise.
Whilst it killed him to see them like that Dewey tried to smile, tried to be pleased that Webby was at least happy and getting her all time Christmas wish of her happily ever after. Her boyfriend, her future husband, the guy that would give her the children and white picket fence that she used to tell him about in their late night college confessions. Even back then he knew he was in love with her but also knew she was out of his league. If only he'd known then just how much those feelings would ruin his life, ruin everything.
God, he was going to miss her, miss all of them but it would be her he missed the most. But she was happy and above everything that's what was important. He was setting her free, letting her live the life she wanted without him confining her, stifling her and one day confessing everything and destroying it all anyway.
No, they'd be better off without him.
Maybe one day she'd even thank him.
He sat through the rest of the evening feeling more detached than ever. A numbness slowly spread through his body as he distanced himself from his former friends. Occasionally he'd smile or nod but his mind was already planning what was left to arrange and pack for Cape Suzette. It was only when people started to say goodbye that he jolted back to the present.
On auto-pilot he hugged each goodnight, wishing them a merry Christmas. He watched in slow motion as one-by-one they waved and walked out, realizing in a surreal haze that he wasn't entirely sure who he'd see tomorrow morning before he left. That this might be the last time he ever saw them. It was strange.
He should have cared more, he knew he should but he just couldn't. The numbness, the cold that had spread through his veins throughout the evening was his mind's way of protecting him, to stop him feeling the full brunt of the hurt… a survival tactic. If he allowed himself to think, to feel then he would crumble. No, he had to hold on to the coldness, just for one more lonely night.
Webby and Max declared they were staying at hers and letting his eyes linger on her longer than he probably should have numbly walked across the hall by himself, entering the cold apartment. It was quite fitting that he would be alone here on his last night, it was probably good practice for the future and the empty hotel room that awaited his arrival tomorrow.
At least by himself he could finish everything in private. He could stay up all night finalizing things, emptying drawers and packing up his old life without having to worry about any noise he might make. He wouldn't have to answer any questions if any tears managed to break through and wouldn't have to hide any of his twisted emotions.
He was going to do this.
He was going to leave all this behind him.
Life would eventually get better.
It had to.
With a heavy sigh he dumped the photo frame onto the kitchen counter, once again feeling the eyes of every face in the photo staring at him, accusing him, blaming him. They didn't understand. He had to do this. He had no choice.
His gaze fell onto the image of Webby, taking in every detail of her beautiful happy printed face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, his voice seeming loud in the empty apartment.
Knowing no reply was coming he hung his head, taking a few deep breaths, readying himself for what he had to do this evening. He turned to head to his room then paused. Slowly he reached out his hand, grasping the frame, he debated for just a second whether he should take it with him but even without looking at it he could feel their anger burning into him.
He had enough guilt.
With trembling hands he turned it face down onto the countertop then moved swiftly into his room without looking back.
Christmas - Present Time:
Dewey stood alone in his bedroom beside his bed, where his suitcase laid open and half-packed. His eyes scanned the room, mentally calculating what else he had to pack and how much he needed to leave out to keep the pretense up that little bit longer.
Just one more night to go until he saw his family… and he couldn't wait!
His eyes involuntarily landed on the photo frame that Webby had surprised him with as a housewarming gift; it sat proudly on his chest of drawers. Behind the polished glass was a picture of the newly formed group. The seven of them were pulling silly faces, laughing and smiling at the camera. His arm looked at home around Webby's shoulders, and she in turn was casually leaning back against him like she belonged there.
And she absolutely did.
Forcing himself to refocus on the task at hand, he grabbed a sweater from the back of his chair, stuffing it into the open suitcase. Satisfied that he'd packed all that he could get away with for tonight, he zipped it up about to hide it when he heard the apartment door open. Panicked, he hurriedly stashed it under the bed, kicking it as far as it would go and straightening up just in time as his bedroom door swung open.
"There you are," Webby offered him that gorgeous smile he loved so much, and he automatically returned it.
"You found me," he quipped, opening his arms as she naturally stepped closer to him, slipping her arms around his waist as they embraced.
"I'm rounding up people for presents and stuff."
"Already?" he asked, surprised, his eyebrows going up.
He had hoped for a bit more time to get things ready.
"Yeah, well we have to leave early to the Manor tomorrow, so it's best we start things now." she reasoned.
"You're, once again, correct." he smiled, kissing her forehead, but he was quick to capture her lips.
Dewey savored the feel of kissing her, his arms automatically pulling her slender body closer against his. He still couldn't quite believe that she was his girlfriend; that he was dating Webby Vanderquack, and that he could kiss her and hold her pretty much any time he liked… as well as doing other things. As the kiss intensified, Dewey was about to suggest that they put the presents on hold so maybe they could go do other things, when he heard the apartment door open.
Damn.
"Hello!" Boyd called loudly, walking into the apartment, causing Dewey to groan in protest against her lips.
Webby just chuckled at him, pulling away from their embrace but taking hold of his hand, giving it a little sympathetic squeeze before dragging him out into the living room.
"Hi," she greeted cheerily as Dewey muttered something that vaguely resembled a disgruntled hello to his roommate.
After a couple of weeks of rejoining the gang, Boyd had been the one to suggest that Dewey move back into his old apartment, and he had jumped at the chance. It was great to be living back across the hall from Webby, Lena, Violet and Huey, great being part of the group and having close friends again that surrounded him. Plus, a huge bonus was that his initial instincts about Boyd had turned out to be right and they'd become awesome friends almost instantly.
"What're you guys up to?" he asked with a knowing smirk as he approached them.
As he neared Dewey could see what looked like a meatball sub in his hands, and Webby scowled.
"Is that a sub?" Webby protested. "Boyd! I've cooked a Christmas dinner! There's tons of food waiting to be eaten across the hall. You can't eat an entire chicken as well."
"Don't worry it won't be wasted," he easily reassured her, waving the sub in the air confidently to somehow demonstrate his point. "I have enough room in my stomach for anything! I promise I'll have room for both chicken and your feast. Any leftovers I can eat tomorrow, after you've all gone…"
Webby's brow creased in confusion.
Boyd's eyes widened in panic.
Dewey's face screwed up in annoyance.
Damn it. So close!
Webby frowned: sure she and the guys were going to the Manor, but Boyd's tone made it seem like there was someplace more special. "Gone where? What are you talking about? We're just going home to the Manor," she turned her perplexed face to Dewey who managed to change his expression just in time to mirror her confusion. "We aren't going anywhere."
"I uh…" Boyd faltered, his eyes shooting to his roommate.
"He probably just means the Manor," Dewey stepped in, shrugging for good measure. "Now let's go open those presents and start on that mountain of food!"
Webby's expression was still slightly suspicious, but she reluctantly accepted the lame excuse, obviously more excited to get the festivities started; she'd been talking about it for weeks. As she headed for the door, Dewey threw Boyd an incredulous glare who shrugged apologetically. Shaking his head good naturedly, Dewey followed Webby across the hall into her apartment.
They ate a lovely homemade meal around the table, Webby having cooked him his favorite meal of chilli cheese dogs. They sat together and throughout the meal there had been constant little touches to his knee, thigh and shoulder or a gentle ruffling of his hair. And he had returned as many of them as he could, loving being able to be close to her and being casually affectionate with her.
No one had ever made him feel this content and loved.
Eventually, groaning at how full they all were, the group stumbled into the living area. Huey and Violet sat cuddled up on the couch, Louie and Lena sat cross legged on the floor, and Webby snuggled contently on the oversized chair, occasionally laughing at their friends' antics.
The perfect Christmas tree was set up in the window, creating the perfect backdrop to this perfect setting, and Dewey tried to commit it all to memory. Tried to use it to replace that memory of the last Christmas he had spent with them in this apartment. He couldn't believe just how much life had changed. That for the first time in a long time he actually felt truly happy, happy and ever so grateful to be a part of this amazing, even somewhat unconventional group.
Dewey joined Webby, and she blushed as his strong arms wrapped around her lean body. He pulled her in close, and nuzzled his nose against her neck.
Lena smiled warmly at him. "I'm so glad you're back this Christmas, Dewey," she declared quietly. "It feels… right."
"It's the first Christmas I've seen Webby actually enjoy," Violet pointed out.
His heart panged slightly as he automatically tightened his arms around her, silently vowing not to hurt her like that again.
"Are you ready to see your family tomorrow, Dew?" Boyd asked carefully.
Webby noticed his grip around her tightened, and he took a deep breath. "No," he admitted honestly. "But I know I have to do it sooner or later."
Lena smiled. "You've grown up…"
Dewey chuckled. "I try."
There was a collective laugh, followed by a comfortable silence.
"It's so nice everyone being together," Louie said with his trademark smirk.
"Yeah. You know, it finally feels like Christmas again," Huey agreed.
Wow. As much as he was loving this Christmas he hadn't realized how much it had meant to the others.
"Remind me next year to get a santa suit to really take it up to the next level." Dewey quipped.
Louie grinned. "Scrooge would hate that."
As the others chuckled, Webby shifted slightly, her lips coming up to his ear.
"We should definitely get you a santa suit," she whispered, her breath tickling his sensitive skin.
He swallowed, looking at her.
"Santa? Really?"
"Oh yeah," she nodded, throwing him a very promising seductive look. If only he had known earlier.
"Next year it is."
"I'll hold you to that," she grinned.
Letting out a contented sigh, he rested his head against hers for a moment just holding her and marvelling at how much everything really had changed since that fated Christmas all that time ago. That he was here flirting with Webby. Here bantering with the others. That he was making plans for next year. Next year here with them, with her.
He wondered if he could ever feel as good as he did right now.
"Earth to Dewey!" Lena laughed and he blinked looking over to her.
"Huh?" he asked, not realizing how much he'd zoned out. He grinned good-naturedly as Webby poked him teasingly in the ribs murmuring something about him being a goofball.
"We're gonna do presents," Lena repeated.
"Right, sure."
Presents were exchanged amongst themselves and Dewey had to hide his grin as Webby opened hers.
"A spatula?"
"It's a good one right?" he teased, aware of the others trying not to laugh: they were all in on it.
"Uh… y-yeah." she managed. He could hear the disappointment she tried to hide but knew it would all be worth it: he just had to wait a little longer.
"You haven't got one like that," Boyd pointed out, biting back his own grin.
"And cooking is your favorite hobby," Lena praised. "Dewey knows you so well, he's a keeper."
"Yeah, he's great." It was said as if she was trying to remind herself of that fact, so he tightened his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, wishing the evening would hurry up and finish.
Finally it was time for the group to say goodnight and festive hugs and well wishes were exchanged by all. Boyd, Lena, and Louie left, and Huey and Violet retreated to her room leaving them alone. Webby started to tidy away but Dewey stopped her, his arms sliding around her waist from behind. He smirked when he saw that she happened to be holding her new spatula.
"Leave it," he whispered. "You can use that tomorrow… it will give you something to look forward to."
She chuckled, leaning back into his embrace. It was his turn to chuckle and she felt the rumbles vibrate through her.
"What if I told you that wasn't your real present?" he confessed softly in her ear, smirking as she shivered.
"What do you mean?" she asked confused, turning to face him. "Dewey?"
Remaining silent he just smiled cheekily, his eyes sparkling as he took her hand and led her wordlessly to the door. He pulled her across the hall into his apartment, still not releasing her hand as they made it into his bedroom.
"What are you up to?" she asked looking around for any clues but everything was in its usual place.
"Webbs," he bit his lip as he turned to face her, "I know when I left I ruined a lot of things, and the others have told me how it ruined the holidays for you, a horrible reminder of coming home to find me gone. I never meant to do that, especially knowing how much you've always loved Christmas," corner of his mouth curved up as he met her eyes. "So, for our first Christmas together I wanted to give you a Christmas that you'll always remember for the right reasons, something that will make it special."
She remained silent, nodding to indicate he should continue.
"So for this Christmas…" he walked over to his bedside cabinet pulling open the small drawer. Briefly a flash of a memory came to his mind from that Christmas 3 years ago when he had come back from her apartment to the other tickets that had sat burning a hole in his bedside cabinet. But this was different. They were different. "Here," he said softly, handing her the small envelope.
She looked at him before she carefully opened it.
Plane tickets.
Hotel tickets.
"Paris?!" she exclaimed excitedly, gobsmacked her eyes huge. "Oh my god!"
"We leave after our trip to McDuck Manor," he grinned, loving how eager she was, "If you wanna go that is?"
"Are you kidding me? It's… I-I mean… thank you Dewey!"
He pulled her to him, his arms wrapping securely around her waist. "I know you've always wanted to go and I wanted us to create some new memories," he told her softly. "Christmas was never the best time for me either, so hopefully this way we can change it for both of us with a nice romantic trip together. After we've seen the family."
"It's perfect, like you," she promised, kissing him deeply.
He knew he was far from perfect, but didn't feel obliged to correct her as he returned her kiss, softly moaning as it became passionate fast. The tickets fell to the floor forgotten as they tumbled onto the bed, clothes disappearing quickly as they cherished the feel of skin against skin, reassuring each other that this was real, that this bond, this connection that was almost lost between them was really happening. As her joy filled the room, Dewey couldn't believe how much had changed from 3 years ago.
It had been a tough and terrible journey, but somehow they'd made it. By some miracle they were back together, in love and as clichéd as it all was he wouldn't change anything for the world.
"How's the patient?"
"No change. He still thinks he went to Duckburg, and found the girl of his dreams."
"Isn't this the same delusion that's in his old file?"
"He's kept the delusion to himself for the last few years. It looks like it increased in severity a few months ago. He's been off his meds!"
"Well, he went missing for a while. Found him in St. Canard. Cops had to taser him."
"He's lucky he just got locked up and not shot!"
"He's had a few incidents since he got sent here. Dr. Morgan had to subdue him. He was put in isolation before his eval."
"What is wrong with him?"
"A lot. He thinks he's dating McDuck's housekeepers granddaughter."
"Damn, we need to get him back to Cape Suzette soon…"
Dewey's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding against his chest. He looked down, and saw Webby camly lying on his chest, still sleeping. Relief swept over him, but he wondered if this perfect moment was real. He couldn't help it. Dewey needed to make sure. He moved his hand to touch the small of her back. His hand was warmed by her heat.
Webby stirred from his caress. Her dark eyes fluttered open and she smiled.
"Mmmm. Good morning." she purred.
"Good morning. I didn't mean to wake you yet." he said softly.
She moved to lay beside him on the bed. He rolled to face her and his hand slid to her hip. She looked into his eyes and asked, "What's wrong?"
"I think I had a bad dream."
"You think?" Webby questioned.
"In the dream this was all just a delusion. A fantasy. I was back in Cape Suzette alone. I never came here. But I want… I need you to be real, Webbs. Please. Promise me that this is real, and not just a dream."
She reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "I'm real, Dewey. This is for real. We're together again. We're dating, and it's real. I promise." Webby smiled and scooted away from him on the bed. Their bodies were no longer touching.
"Can you feel me?"
"No. You're way over there."
"Close your eyes."
Dewey closed his eyes.
"Now look for me in your heart. We're always touching there."
Dewey recognized it. He felt her. It wasn't physical contact. It was her feelings. He could feel the link between their souls.
"This is how you'll know for sure that I'm real."
Dewey pushed his fears from his mind as they moved to be close to each other again in the bed. He put his hand on hers and held it. Guiding her hand to his face, he slowly brushed her fingers against his lips. He savored the sensation and kissed them gently. Her cheeks grew redder.
"I love you, Webbs."
"I love you too, Dewey."
Dewey released her hand and she returned it to his chest. Her eyes slowly shut as he brought his face close to hers. Her pink lips looked soft and luscious. He wanted to feel them with his again; to taste them again. Closing his eyes he brought his face closer. As they kissed, his tongue lightly touched hers and she moaned.
They didn't need their bond to know what the other was feeling now.
Their kisses continued. Hands now roamed. They stroked each other's bodies. He ran his fingers through her hair. Her hands felt the muscles of his back and shoulders.
Kisses moved from their lips. To faces. To necks. Hands were searching. Intimate places were touched. Soft and sensual kisses danced on skin. Excitement and passion grew. Webby kissed Dewey's firm chest, and began a trail of light kisses downward.
The door to the bedroom burst open and Huey rushed in. "Good morning! We leave for McDuck Manor in 20 min—AHHH!"
Startled, Dewey and Webby scrambled to cover themselves with the sheets.
"HUEY! DIDN'T ANYONE TEACH YOU HOW TO KNOCK?!" Webby screeched as she flung a pillow at him.
Huey darted from the room, slamming the door behind him. He shouted from the other side, "I'm sorry, Webbs! But I did knock! Neither of you answered! We thought you were still asleep! It is already very late! Scrooge is waiting!" he stumbled.
Webby huffed, but when she saw Dewey's brazen grin, both broke out into laughter. They held their stomachs as the giggles tumbled out, and she quickly captured his lips in a searing kiss.
"Let's go." she smirked.
ooo
Andddd I'm gonna end it here :) Until next time
—Jordan :)
