Donald scowled as he drove home from work. "Work" this week (actually this month, come to think of it) was a low-paying job cleaning up everybody else's messes at the Money Bin, given begrudgingly to him by Scrooge himself. While Donald was glad to be leaving work, and he was glad to soon be seeing his nephews (and Webby), he just. didn't want to see Scrooge. He didn't want to deal with him. Didn't want to have to hear another smug "How was cleaning my money today? You'd better have made it sparkle, now." And he certainly didn't want his employment by Scrooge thrown in his face, threatened to be snatched away at a moment's notice.

The only reason he took this job was because Scrooge had decided to make his employment a requirement for his continued living at the Manor. Scrooge promised he wouldn't kick out the boys-they certainly deserved a roof over their head, he said, as if Donald couldn't provide that; it was just about the only thing he could reliably provide, seeing as he owned the houseboat-but if Donald wanted to keep living there, he had to get a job.

Which did make sense. Donald did prefer being employed, and it wasn't like Scrooge was giving him an allowance for spending money. But two weeks wasn't enough time to find a new job, at least not when you were Donald Duck, so Scrooge had ever-so-graciously offered him one. Cleaning the money in his bin. And anything else around the bin that needed cleaning.

Donald hated cleaning.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Donald didn't mind cleaning after himself and the boys (although they could stand to keep their rooms a bit neater). But Donald really hated cleaning after other people.

Especially super rich people who were so rich that they kept their money in a huge vault and hired someone whose only job was to keep it clean and polished.

Donald pulled into the Manor's huge driveway. He wished there was a way to bypass the Manor entirely and just skip right to his houseboat. It was the only space that was truly his. Not that he'd had more space back before they moved into the Manor, but at least then he didn't have to pass through someone else's space to get to it.

Donald parked his car far away from Scrooge's limos. He got out of his car and stared at the mansion. He could walk around to the back so he didn't have to go through the house, but then he'd have to go through a line of hedges, which was generally more trouble than it was worth. Besides, then the boys wouldn't know he was home.

Donald sighed and made his way up the walkway. At least he'd convinced Beakley that he could open the door himself, thank you very much.

Donald found the kids doing their homework in the dining room. Well, Huey and Louie were doing their homework, while Dewey and Webby were having an animated conversation about something was was most certainly not homework.

"Hi, Uncle Donald!" the boys greeted him.

"Homework?" Donald said to Dewey.

Dewey guiltily turned his attention back to doing his homework.

"What about you?" Donald said, turning to Webby.

"Oh, I finished mine on the bus," Webby said, digging around in her backpack. "See?"

Donald paged through her homework. "Is this all of it?"

"Well, I'm supposed to read for fifteen minutes, too, but I was planning on doing that before bed," she said.

Donald nodded just as Scrooge came into the room.

"Ah, Nephew, you're home. How's my money doing?"

Donald resisted the urge to cringe. "Terrible," he muttered.

"Good, good," Scrooge said, ignoring Donald's sarcasm. "Oh, that reminds me. It's payday. Don't spend it all in one place."

Donald gave an angry huff and left, heading to the houseboat. And to think, there had been a time when he couldn't imagine moving out of the Manor.

That night, as Donald lay in bed, he couldn't help but think about how grating it was living back at McDuck Manor. He felt like a college kid home on summer break. After living on your own for a while, moving back in with family was absolute torture.

The constant questions about what he was doing with his life. What he was doing with his money. His job situation. Unsolicited advice about all of the above. Jabs about how he was raising the boys. Made all the worse because Scrooge had more money than he could ever do anything with, even if lived forever (and it was certainly looking like he would…) but wouldn't share so much as a dime of it with his own family.

…

Ok, except for the job, and living at the Manor, and keeping his houseboat in the Manor swimming pool, and using the Manor's electricity, and eating out of the Manor's kitchen...

That...probably cost a lot of money.

Oh.