a/n: an old ducktales fic from 2019. entirely preserved
Louie is the first of the triplets, body small and shaking, to come out to his family.
First grade is rapidly approaching and Louie realizes one hot summer night that he'll combust if he has to go another year of being called a girl. The kids from kindergarten already thought him and his siblings were weird. From the fact that they all looked the same to them calling him Louie instead of his full name, since it wasn't girly enough. Ech.
Louie isn't exactly able to pinpoint when he'd realized being a boy sounded an eternity better than being a girl, but it's all he can think about for the entire school break. It encompasses him from the moment he wakes up late and hears his family talking about him, shes and hers aplenty, to the moment he lays down to rest, where sometimes his uncle slips and calls them all boys, only to correct himself. Louie hates it.
It's a long couple of weeks, the threat of school resuming looming over him, that Louie spends debating within himself how to potentially get his entire family to hate him. His guard is down significantly more, unable to put up his normal front while imagining his life crumbling. He visibly flinches more, takes more time to respond to his full name whenever his brothers poke at him with it. It's disheartening at best and feels like drowning at worst.
"Lou Lou, what's up?" Dewey asks one day out of the blue. Louie frowns, confused.
"What's up?" he parrots. Dewey nods.
"You've been really weird these past couple of weeks. What's going on?" It takes the youngest longer than he'd like to admit to understand what he's being asked. Sudden fear chases away all confusion and Louie shrinks in on himself.
"Nothing's wrong, bro," he lies, voice surprisingly steady. "Just uh, y'know. Not looking forward to school again." Dewey nods again, but furrows his brow.
"Yeah?" he asks, tone betraying his disbelief. Louie turns away from him.
"Yeah," he agrees. He's not trembling, and yet when Dewey puts a hand on his shoulder, he stills.
"You're usually a better liar than that, Lou," is what he says, and Louie can fully admit to shaking now. Of course Dewey saw right through him. "Louie what's wrong? Like, really actually wrong?" Dewey is starting to sound worried and Louie opens his mouth to bite out another lie, but nothing comes. He just shakes his head instead. This does not satiate his brother as he'd hoped it would.
"Should I get Huey and Uncle Donald?" Louie could think of literally nothing worse right now. He's like, full on panicking, he can't say anything to get himself out of this and he can't even really think. He shakes his head more, harder, but Dewey's already gone. When he returns, brother and uncle in tow, Louie feels sick.
His siblings both flock him and ask him what the issue is, but he can't answer them. This isn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell them on his own terms, preferably when everything was good and everyone was happy. But now everything was bad and everyone was unhappy and it was all because he hadn't said something in time!
Suddenly his brothers are much further back than they were a moment ago, and in their place is Uncle Donald. He sits on the floor and says, "I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" and Louie nods sharply, once. He's placed in his uncle's lap a moment later and grabs him in a tight hug as soon as he can, burying his face into his uncle's soft blue shirt.
Louie doesn't fully realize he's crying until he hears his Uncle gently shushing and rocking him. It takes a toll on him when he does, and they become heavier, loud sobs. He feels his brother each press up against him as much as he can and he cries harder.
When he's all out of tears, Louie can't find anymore resolve. He confesses into the shirt's fabric.
"Hm?" Uncle Donald hums, and of course it wouldn't be that simple. So Louie gives his Uncle one last squeeze, picks his head up, and says as clearly as he can, "I'm not a girl." He stares at the bright red bow around his Uncle's neck and waits for disaster.
"Oh. Okay." ...What?
"W-what?" he blurts out, unable to stop himself. He looks his Uncle in the eyes and doesn't understand.
"I said, 'okay.' Is there anything else?" Louie stares at the duck in front of him dumbly.
"I...I'm a boy," he stammers, a loss for any other words. Uncle Donald nods simply and gives him a quick hug. Huey and Dewey fill up the space once they can.
"Alright then," Uncle Donald laughs, "what do my three favorite nephews want for dinner tonight?"
Louie is sure if he had any tears left, he'd be crying again.
Once a middle child, always a middle child, as some saying probably goes.
The three of them were about to turn 11 soon, and in those almost 11 years there was a good bit of things Dewey had learned.
1) Their brothers are the best.
2) Their Uncle is the best.
3) They might not all be boys anymore?
There's a lot more, but these stand as the most important. The first two have always been intrinsic facts of the world, but the last is newer. It's not something they consider for a good and long while. Not until they're in school and teachers misgender Louie to his face and they jump up and take the shes and hers away from him. Really what they want to do is throw a punch or five but Dewey's not so stupid as to think they could get away with hitting a teacher, especially when they can barely get by with their fellow students.
So, double shirt Dewey reroutes the anger and does what they do best: they play class clown. Some of the students follow after the teachers and make jabs at them for supposedly being a boy but being fine with being called a girl. Dewey always just shrugs and, when no authority is in sight, flips them off. They laugh off the few well meaning kids who ask if they're okay, and that's it. Dewey doesn't think about it twice.
Until they do.
At the small table they have in the main room of the house boat, Dewey scribbles nonsense on their homework sheet and does everything they can to pretend like it's an actual answer. Huey laughs at something on the squat TV their Uncle's managed to nab and it's less that but more the fact Louie doesn't echo it that grabs their attention. The youngest triplet is slumped even further into the couch then he is normally, and Dewey can't quite make out his features from here but the way Huey's laugh dies down after turning to him makes it sound less than good.
But of course, why would it be good? School's not easy for any of the trio, even though it may have been for different reasons. Huey wasn't the best at talking to or being talked to by others, Dewey couldn't do their work or sit still to save their life, and Louie had at least three kids goading him at any one time. The thought sends a spark of fury through the young duck until they think back at what those same kids had said to them for longer than just a second.
It's a long moment of reflection that doesn't really lead to much but circle talk. Dewey's never been amazing at putting two and two together on their own, if their grades are anything to go by. So instead of trying to find a way out of their rut on their own, they grab Uncle Donald's screwy little laptop, and go searching.
im ok with being called a girl
im ok with being called a girl but im a boy?
gender fluid
genderless
agender
Dewey clicks around for a short while, reading whatever short paragraphs they can find along the way. They learn of similarities and differences, of pronouns and how many there are (a lot!), and how some people describe the feeling of having no gender. It's not a lot, but eventually Dewey grows bored of the search, decides they know enough, and resolves to tell their family over dinner.
And then they promptly forget about it.
It's a good couple of weeks after the triplets have their big pre-teen blowout (with an entire three layer cake!) that Dewey remembers, in the middle of talking with Huey.
"Oh!" he gasps, previous train of thought completely derailed. "Oh, oh, oh!"
"What, what, what?" Huey asks, puzzled but feeding off of the younger's energy.
"I just remembered something like, super important!" Dewey hops off their shared bed and all but drags the eldest with them to the main room. Louie looks up from where he's flipping channels and Uncle Donald continually scribbles at a piece of paper.
"I have an announcement!" they yell, a little louder than they really need to. Huey recoils a bit. The younger duck rubs the back of their head sheepishly. "Oops, sorry."
"What's up?" Louie probes, head lolled towards them. Uncle Donald's also lifted up from where he was hunched over. Dewey opens his mouth happily, and then clinks it shut. "Uh..."
Huey chuckles and elbows them lightly. "It was super important?" Dewey lights up.
"Right, right!" They puff up proudly. "I'm agender!" Louie's eyes pop up from their eternal lidded state while both Uncle Donald and Huey look a little lost."Basically, I'm not a boy or a girl or anything else really! But I'm also trans, just like Louie!" They beam at their brother happily. Louie gives this look that Dewey can't get a good enough look at before he turns away. There's a badly hidden smile on his face.
Uncle Donald squawks out a quick 'huh.' "So, is there anything you want us to change?" Dewey's quick to shake their head.
"I don't care much! I like my name and I've been with you guys my entire life. Call me whatever!" Dewey smiles brightly. Everyone nods in understanding and Dewey tugs Huey towards the couch, where they join Louie. Their previous conversation is lost in favor of watching whatever's happened on the TV. Dewey bounces happily in their seat, feeling lighter than they have in a while.
(It takes them another week and a half to mention their pronouns, prompted by Louie floundering when talking to a student. He seems upset that he didn't think to ask before, but Dewey waves him off. It was their own fault, forgetting to say anything about it. Neither he or the rest of his family ever slip again. Dewey is content.)
Webby doesn't understand at first. She's always been a girl, but her exasperated parents had continually told her otherwise. They made her dress in ways she didn't like and wouldn't let her try on any of the pretty skirts on the other side of the store. It felt like punishment for something she'd never done and she hated it.
The day they'd given her to her Granny, her bags full of the things she didn't like wearing and the few drawings they hadn't ripped up (she'd drawn herself in a weird off blue color in those. They liked that, for whatever reason. She liked the purple and pink ones more, but any color besides the blue would get her drawing tossed before the days end), she didn't cry. She let her Granny teach her all kinds of syntax, show her how to make and keep lists organized and sew. Webby liked sewing a lot.
The large manor had given her an entire room to call her own, unlike living with her parents. They'd let her sleep in their bed since she'd hatched, and then the second she could talk and correct them, they'd bought a tiny bed and pushed it to the furthest corner of their room and told her to sleep there instead. She'd burst into blubbery tears then, confused and overwhelmed and feeling bruised even when she hadn't suffered any hurt. Her father refused to explain, rolling over and sleeping with heavy snores after telling her to be quiet. Her mother had held her loosely and simply told her she was getting too big to sleep with them. She calmed down at that and slipped into her cramped new bed, but even at a young age, Webby knew a lie when she heard one.
The new room gave her a sense of freedom and privacy the girl had never had before. It was wonderful! She holes up in it for hours at a time and decorates it how she wishes and does whatever she wants and her Granny never once scolds her for it. Not even when she twirls so much she ends up bumping the walls, dizzy, or when she's so excited she can't stop jumping up and down squealing. The only thing the woman ever seems torn about is when she enters and Webby hides her sewing project behind her back or tosses it behind her bed before she can even get a glimpse. It makes Webby feel a little bit like she's lying but she hasn't said a word so technically she's not. For whatever reason, that doesn't stop the feeling.
One day the curiosity must get the better of her though, because Webby finds herself between a rock and a hard place, telling her Granny she'll be sure to show off what she's been working on for the past couple of months. The skirt's been done for weeks now in all honesty and she's simply been making more and fiddling with the idea of making some shirts. It's something she'd been keeping to herself, assuring it wouldn't be taken or thrown away. The thought of showing it off is worrisome and frankly a little scary, but Webby's no liar.
The evening Webby walks out, new violet vest carefully pulled over the pink long sleeve she made a while ago and purple skirt burning at every point of contact, she pulls her Granny into a hug before she can say anything. The woman returns it, gentle. For whatever reason, she starts shushing quietly, her but Webby's not crying. Webby doesn't cry.
"This is what I've been doing, Granny." the girls tone is flat as she pulls away and turns exactly once in a full circle. She ends the motion with her hands out in a 'ta-da!' kind of gesture and her head down. Webby isn't crying.
"It's wonderful, dear." Webby doesn't understand at first. The second the words click her head snaps up and she looks deeply into her Grandmother's eyes and sees nothing but the softness of understanding and truth.
Webbigail cries.
Huey is, in some ways unsurprisingly, the last one to come out.
Always one to want to know any and everything about the world around her, Huey feels comfortable in the fact that she knows everything she possibly can.
So when Louie, aged 6 and a half and teary eyed, announced he was a boy, Huey is thrown for a loop. Still, the eldest smiled and nodded and didn't hesitate to start calling Louie her brother. She hadn't grasped it entirely at that point but she'd made it her business to understand entirely as soon as she could, if only for Louie's sake.
(Later that same night, Dewey passed out next to them in a sugar crash, Huey found herself asking.
"So...you're a boy now, huh?" Even though he'd been crying about it earlier, Louie is entirely calm and seems unbothered by the question. He nods.
"Yep." He pops the p, smiling. Huey gives him a small girn back and gathers her thoughts.
"...why?" Huey tries to ask as politely as she can. Louie gives one of his soon-to-be patented shrugs.
"'Cause I am." Huey hums, and they leave it at that. She still doesn't really get it get it, but she supposes that's alright for now.)
Her studies starts a bit later and lead her a good bit of nowhere. The library at school carried minimal amounts of anything to give insight, and what it did was rudely written and upsetting. Huey puts a pin in the plan and reads some science fiction.
They've barely turned 11 when Dewey tells everyone one day, full of excitement, that he's not a boy or a girl, Huey is gobsmacked by both the admission and her lack of knowledge.
She picks right back up where she left off several years prior, which is to say, at the beginning. The internet is a much more powerful tool than their old library proved to be, and she spends the entire day and then some under the bright light of Uncle Donald's laptop. It's a little worse for wear and takes eons to load, but Huey soaks up every passage that slowly crawls out like a sponge. When the satisfaction of finally knowing everything she can ebbs away, Huey finds herself pouring over one specific subsection.
She hovers over the term trans girl for months, unsure. Huey's a duck who hates change, outward and inward. The last thing she wants is to slap on a label and then want to rip it off. But even she had to admit, there were a million and ten things out there and none of them gave her the pull she got from this. Still, her need to be completely sure beforehand had won out and she kept it tucked deep into her dwelling at home folder, not bringing it up to even her siblings.
(Eventually she becomes sick of being called a boy and snaps at her uncle when they're in the middle of an otherwise normal conversation. She apologizes profusely and, as nicely as she can, asks him not to call her one anymore, or tell her siblings about it. He agrees easily and he doesn't speak a peep, but the others catch on anyways.)
When they move into McDuck manor, she pushes the thought back further, unwilling to think about it when the entire world is very suddenly different.
Her dam breaks a year later when she's a good three months past due for a haircut and she's babbling endlessly to Webby about one of the countless things she's researched at the public library (Scrooge had a private one, of course, but they'd long since worked their way through that). Her voice is high and excited and a little too loud obviously, because the librarian comes over and hushes them with a stern, "Girls, this is a library, not a mall," and disappears. All of a sudden, the piece she's been waiting to pop into place finally situates itself firmly and it fits like a glove. Warmth spreads through her slowly, and by the time she's fully assured herself, Webby's practically two pats away from punching her.
"Hueyyy," she whines, careful to keep it quiet, "what're you all smiley about? We just got shushed!" Huey hadn't noticed she'd been smiling, but it was impossible to stop now. She shakes her head lightly, and then more vigorously, hair feathers smacking her face in a comforting way.
"I just realized something, is all. C'mon," she stands and the chair makes that horrible scratchy sound and both she and Webby wince slightly. She's more careful about putting it back, simply picking it up to replace it. "We gotta get home, I wanna tell everyone." Webby's own excited smile grows as they leave together, stopping briefly to put their books on a return cart.
Huey ends up spending another week agonizing over it, much to Webby's barely hidden chagrin. She felt bad about making the older girl wait, especially considering she knew she'd understand, but Huey just needed to be completely sure of herself first. There was little doubt in her mind that if she ended up feeling the label no longer fit her at a later date, her family wouldn't mind one bit, but the idea of changing afterwards was still daunting and undesirable.
Huey passes up two adventures before her siblings usher her down to Louie's bunk, giving her their own special looks of worry. Dewey's smile was pinched even though he was trying to seem at ease and Louie had that glint in his eyes, the only visible sign he was anything but relaxed. It's not something she was expecting to happen, but it's also not something she hadn't considered was going to happen either. The two of them look at the eldest expectantly, but don't rush. She appreciates it.
The duckling pulls at her soft nightshirt and looks at Dewey. "If I'm gonna do this now, you might as well get Webby. She'll claw my feathers off if she's not one of the first to hear." Dewey nods quickly, looking happy to do something other than wait. He comes back a moment later with the aforementioned girl in tow, rubbing at her eyes. When she notices the rest of the quartet gathered, all sleep in her posture evaporates and she makes it to the bed before Dewey does. When the two of them settle, Huey clasps her hands together quietly.
"So uhm. I didn't really plan this out or anything so I'm just gonna say it, alright?" The ducks around her nod at varying speeds. Huey takes a deep breath, rubs at her arm and looks anywhere except the tired group.
"I think I'm a girl?" It ends up as more of a question than a statement. Her cheeks burn a bit. Then Webby makes a sound that can only be described as an excited shout that quickly remembers it's supposed to be quiet and Huey finds herself nearly tackled into the headboard.
"Huey! You're a girl and you've been hiding this from me?!" Webby whisper-shouts from above her. She has half a mind to feel ashamed about that fact but Webby barrels on. "I can't believe you! I could've started sewing you clothes ages ago! Oh, wait. Do you not want to be called Huey anymore? Sorry, I shouldn't have said it again!" She lifts off of Huey then, sheepish. Dewey and Louie haven't moved, but they look extremely interested in the question.
Huey can't help it. She bursts into laughs. When she only gets bemused looks in return, she laughs a little harder. Dewey starts to look a little incredulous.
"What's so funny, Hue-uh," he shakes his head. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing!" the girl assures, doubled over and wheezing a twinge. "I just...I was so scared this wasn't gonna still fit me after I said anything. I agonized over this for forever! And then Webby just springs on me and offers me clothes and you two-" she points, tone light, "you two give me this look that just screams 'we've been waiting for this,' and it's so serious and-" Huey breaks off into another laughing fit. There are tears in her eyes and if she tries hard enough she can pass them off as joyous instead of hysterical. There's a wobbly grin on her face when she finally catches her breath.
"To answer your inquiries, Huey's still fine. I'd prefer she/her from now on, though." She keeps her voice airy. It's easier to pretend like she's not about to die from all the emotions swirling inside her right now if she does, even if most of them are good. Everyone seems satisfied at that and the conversation soon goes elsewhere. Huey feels the same warmth from a few weeks ago begin to soothe her, assisted by her siblings.
(Later, when Dewey and Webby are sharing his bunk and Huey has calmed down but doesn't feel like moving to her own, Louie taps her shoulder.
"So, you're a girl now, huh?" His eyes are half lidded and his grin is teasing. Huey smiles brightly.
"Yep!" She pops the p.)