Work Text:
After Bradford is defeated, it takes hours for the adrenaline of the day to wear off.
Fenton calls his mother, who brings half of Duckburg’s police force over much sooner than should be humanly possible. Any questioning stares are met with amused shrugs and Gyro’s passionate declaration to never get between Officer M.A.M.A. Cabrera and her son. Spoken from experience, of course. Officer Cabrera’s officers and the superheroes present arrest FOWL’s goons. (Pepper gives May and June goodbye hugs.)
The villains are gone, of course, having split with the help of Magica’s sorcery and a harmless raven on her shoulder. They’d left with winks and playful smiles tossed over their shoulders. Almost friendly, but not quite. Familiar. The promises of future tussles and battles left unsaid in the desert air. No one says anything outright, but the villains’ smooth departure puts a smile on everyone’s faces. It’s the promise of a next time. Of countless adventures to come. Bradford, for all his meticulous and careful planning, lost.
Goldie steals Manny away to ride into the nearest town and comes back with a cooler of snacks. Uncle Scrooge - Dad (Dad!) - and Granny level their fiercest glares at her and pointedly ask if she paid for them. Goldie giggles behind her hand and avoids the question, dropping a packaged ice cream cone in Dewey’s hands. He lights up, and Dad melts just like the ice cream under the hot desert sun.
Webby, sitting blissfully between Dad and Granny, has a perfect view of their conversation with Goldie. She keeps shooting Webby weird looks, like she isn’t quite sure what to make of her. Honestly, Webby doesn’t really blame her. Webby has always been Granny’s granddaughter through and through, and she inherited Granny’s disdain for Goldie and protectiveness of Dad.
Webby leans against Dad, and he puts an arm around her. Steady and protective, although she can feel his heart fluttering in his chest. He’s exhausted too - he went through perhaps the most today, at least physically. They’re both too tired to speak, at least right now, but they’re content enough to be in each others’ presence.
Dewey leads the other kids to the ice cream, and they wave her over. Gosalyn passes a cone to her, and Huey hands her a napkin. She sits sandwiched between Boyd and June, eating ice cream on the ramp of the plane. Violet is holding Lena’s cone because Lena is busy weaving friendship bracelets for May and June.
Webby glances back to where Dad and Granny have set up camp. Members of their family are filtering through, offering assistance and comfort. Donald’s leading a team to fix the plane, and Ludwig is bringing a group through FOWL’s headquarters like a tour guide, to pick up any evidence and missing mysteries. Gyro is off to the side, painstakingly fixing Boyd’s body and the Gizmosuit, with Della hovering over his shoulder and making snarky remarks he pretends to be bothered by.
Soon they’ll be in the air, and she still hasn’t talked to Dad. Really talked to him.
Fear starts to pool in Webby’s gut. He seemed to take it well enough, but that was in the middle of the fight. What if he doesn’t want to be her father? What if this changes her relationship with her other family members?
Webby squeezes her cone so hard it cracks and melted ice cream spills onto her hand.
Why should a piece of parchment, magic or not, decide her family, when she’s spent years cultivating and choosing the perfect family of her own? For better or for worse?
A familiar hand waves in front of her face, green sleeves flapping in the slight breeze, and Webby jumps, startled. Her family, no longer contentedly eating their ice cream, are all staring at her with varying degrees of worry.
“Hey, Webs?” Louie blinks at her and shoves his hands back in the pocket. “You were kinda spacing out there.”
Webby shakes herself back into the present and grins sheepishly at him. “Sorry. What’s up?”
Louie jerks a thumb inside the plane. “Mom just came by. We’re about ready to start heading back. Reinforcements just got here, and they’re going to take everyone else home.”
Webby blinks and casts a quick glance around the desert, cultivated by years of spy training and adventuring. Della is indeed a few paces away, talking to Launchpad, next to the broken plane wing looking as good as new. On the other side of the plane, Amunet and D’jinn are talking to Goldie and Storkules as they enter Gladstone’s blimp. The desert is clearing out, and those who haven’t already left are busy packing up any supplies.
Dad and Granny amble over with the rest of the adults into the plane. Dad stops in front of them, placing his cane on the ground with a clink and folding his hands over it. He’s smiling, tired but fond. His eyes rest on Webby for a moment longer than everyone else before moving on.
“All ready, kids?” Dad asks, his beak quirking up in a familiar cocky smirk, and something fond settles in Webby’s gut.
“Ready,” she replies firmly with the rest of them, smiling, and enters the plane, ignoring her growing nervousness. She’s with her family now. She’s safe.
--
When they’re all safe and settled in the belly of the Sunchaser once again, after Launchpad’s little snafu with the emergency hatch release, Webby seeks Dad out.
He’s sitting in the seat closest to the cockpit, talking with Aunt Daisy. Webby’s full to bursting with nervous energy, but, as she knows, it’s all for naught. His face lights up when he sees Webby coming. Aunt Daisy, as savvy and clever as she is, gives Webby a fond, knowing smile and slips away with a pat on Dad’s knee and a ruffle of Webby’s hair.
Hesitantly, Webby jumps into Aunt Daisy’s chair and maneuvers herself to face Dad. She busies herself for a few moments by fidgeting with her friendship bracelet.
Dad rearranges himself to face Webby, too. “What can I do for you, lass?” he asks, but she can tell from his tone he already knows where this conversation is going.
“So. Um.” Webby tugs at the hem of her skirt, bunching it up in her fists and hurriedly smoothing it out again. “Dad.”
“Dad,” he repeats, his voice full of wonder and amazement. A small smile tugs at his grin, threatening to burst and split his face.
“Can we talk?” Webby asks nervously. Her voice breaks a little on the word talk, and Dad noticeably winces.
“Of course,” he replies, awkward and stilted. “Go ahead.”
“Well…” Webby stares down at her skirt, then back up at Dad with glassy eyes. “Do you love me?”
Dad jerks, shocked. It’s clear that of all her questions, he certainly wasn’t expecting that one.
“Like a daughter,” Webby clarifies. “Do you love me like a daughter?”
Dad’s face changes, softens. It’s unreadable, but not unkind.
“Of course,” he replies softly.
Webby flinches and glances to the side, at the wall of the plane. Anywhere but Dad’s face. She tries to hide her discomfort, but it’s clear he notices.
“Do you… not want me to?” he tries.
Webby shakes her head. “Of course I do,” she replies softly.
“Then why…” he trails off. He has a million clauses he could finish the sentence with, but they all hang heavy in the air between them, unsaid.
Webby can’t look at him. “I… I don’t want you to only love me because I’m your daughter,” she replies. Her voice breaks on the word daughter. “I want you to love me because I’m me.”
“Webbigail Vanderquack.” Dad stares at her incredulously. “I paid full price for your birthday party. And it was only a front! How can you think I don’t love you?!”
A shocked giggle bursts out of Webby. After a moment, Dad joins her in his own giggling fit.
“I know you love me,” Webby replies quietly after their giggles have died down. Dad’s smile sags, and his expression turns serious and forlorn. “But it’s not the same. I- I know I’ve always been Granny’s granddaughter. It’s a little different. I love you, but I hate that we’re family because a missing mystery said so, and not because we love each other.”
Dad’s expression softens. “Oh, lassie.” He opens his arms, and Webby crawls into his embrace without a second thought.
Dad smooths her hair and tucks his chin onto her head. “Did you know,” he says, his voice muffled by the embrace, “that technically, May and June are my daughters too?”
Webby’s eyes burn. “Hmm?”
“Aye,” Dad continues. “If you were made from my DNA, and May and June were made from yours, then they’re a part of me too. Maybe they’re more like my granddaughters, but the point stands.”
Webby buries her face further into Dad’s coat and doesn’t respond. She’s not sure how too.
“Point being, May and June are my family, and I will treat them as such. I’m sure they’re marvelous young girls, and lovely sisters for you, my dear.”
Dad shifts his embrace so he can see her face. He holds her gaze with a steady and serious look.
“But they’re not my daughters. You, Webby darlin’, are. Do you know why?”
Webby shakes her head.
Dad hugs her tighter. “Because you always have been,” he replies, his voice thick, and oh. “Maybe not with that exact label, but, as Lena would say, labels are weird. You’re my family. You’re one of my kids. I know you, and I love you, Webby darlin’.”
“I… I know I didn’t make the effort to get to know you when you were young,” Dad continues. “I will be the first to admit I regret that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to family. But I’ve had the honor of watching you grow these past years, and of being your family. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
Webby nods. She knows they’re both thinking of earlier that day, when Scrooge’s declaration was put to the test, and won, but only narrowly. He doesn’t make that statement lightly.
Dad shifts, and his embrace loosens. His expression turns troubled and almost… nervous? It scares Webby by osmosis, but a part of her that she hasn’t processed yet thinks it’s comforting that he’s just as scared as she is. It’s new territory for both of them, but they’ll conquer it together.
“Webby, lass,” Dad begins, hesitantly. “Do you… not want me to be your father?”
Webby hums thoughtfully. Out of all the questions that had arisen in the wake of the Papyrus’ reveal, she hadn’t directly considered this one. It had been at the back of her mind, waiting, lingering.
Despite the lack of deliberation time, Webby knows the answer. She’s always known it, from the moment Bradford had confirmed her ancestry.
“Yes,” she says confidently, so firmly that it startles Dad. “It’s like you said. You’re my family, and that didn’t change.”
Dad’s face softens, and his shoulders slump with relief, and his grin threatens to split his face. Webby grins back, a mirror of his own.
“But,” she continues. “I… I like calling you Uncle Scrooge, too. It feels right to call myself your daughter, but it also feels right to call myself your niece. Does… is that okay? Does that make sense?”
“Of course,” Dad replies, shifting his arms. “I think I know how you feel. You are my daughter, and my niece. You’re one of my kids, and that will never change.”
He smiles wryly. “I do like having this special connection to you, though, lass. I have many heirs, but you’re the heir of Clan McDuck. That’s not something to take lightly. I’m proud of you.”
“I’ve never had a father,” she says after a minute. “Granny told me about a father, and a mother, too, but I never really knew them. But I’ve always had you.”
“Aye, Blaise,” Dad replies. “Your so-called ‘mother’ was your grandmother’s niece, if I remember correctly. Arianna. She and Blaise were sweet, if a bit airheaded, from what your grandmother’s told me. They were in a car crash shortly before you were bo- before your grandmother brought you home.”
Webby hums. “I didn’t know they were real.”
“Aye, they were very real,” Dad confirms. “As I’m sure Louie or Goldie will tell you, the best lies are closest to the truth. I’m sure they would love you, dear.”
“I don’t know them,” Webby counters softly. She tilts her head back to look Dad in the eyes. “I never will. But I know you.”
He beams at her. “Exactly, lassie.”
Webby shifts back into his embrace, and they sit together for a minute, the plane’s rumblings shaking them both slightly.
“Does this mean Goldie is my mom now?” Webby asks suddenly, her beak quirking into a grin.
Dad startles and squawks. “Ack, no! I know Louie calls her Aunt Goldie, for all the blasted- but now. Er, I suppose, that’s up to you, lassie,” he finishes somewhat awkwardly.
Webby smiles contentedly and leans her cheek against the fabric of his coat. “That’s okay,” she replies. “It’s my family and I get to choose the members.”
Dad grins proudly, and they lapse back into silence for another few minutes. The adrenaline, both from the harrowing events of the day and the nerve-wracking yet highly anticipated conversation with dad, slips out of her veins, and the heaviness of sleep tugs at Webby’s eyes.
Dad eventually breaks the drowsy, comfortable silence. “I’m proud to call you my daughter.” he murmurs into her hair, and Webby beams. “I’m proud you’re my family, not because that blasted Papyrus says so, but because you chose me. That means more to me than all the money in my Money Bin.”
Webby snuggles deeper into his embrace, her eyelids drifting closed. “Likewise, Dad. I love you.”
He smooths her hair down. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep, blissful and safe, is: “I love you too, Webby darlin’.”