Chapter Text
It felt like being in love…
José looked into Donald's eyes and wished that were true for them now, knowing the glowing picture they presented to everyone that cared to look. Any other two people and one wouldn't question that what they were witnessing was quite the romantic gesture. As he led his friend through the steps of their undeniably intimate dance, he felt the surge of that unspeakable emotion in his very bones. Always he had felt it, for as long as his memory of the man had endured; he could not recall a time when he did not love him. But he was afraid, so uncharacteristically afraid that the sailor would not feel the same way, and he didn't want to ruin the great friendship they had.
And even if Donald were to feel something for him, what would it accomplish? He had tried a long distance relationship before with Panchito once upon a time, and it had been a torment to always live so far away from the person he loved. Digital gestures of affection and the occasional visit hadn't been enough for Zé, and it wouldn't be enough for him now. It was better that they stay friends. That way, only one of them needed to get hurt.
But for now, for this dance, José could forget it all and pretend things were different. That he could imagine how Donald would look gazing at him with more than simply deep friendship, but with love.
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
The music wound down softly around them, José twirling Donald around gently until the last lyric, when he dipped the duck gracefully and low, causing his American to laugh giddily as no doubt his head spun. His pleasure at supporting the full warm weight of his friend was tempered with some concern at how... light Donald felt in his hold. He knew he remembered the sailor being heavier back when they first met up in Brasil a couple of months ago. Now, however, he was feather light like a youth and not like the seasoned veteran of adventure he knew him to be, dense with hard earned muscle.
Has he not been eating enough? He knew it must have something to do with... whatever it was that Donald was keeping to himself. He knew he shouldn't pry, but it was hard when he cared so much.
With the last strings of the end tapering off, Zé winked slyly at Donald to mask his worry and pulled him easily back onto his feet. A scattered polite applause met the end of their dance and José doffed his hat in a flourishing bow, waggling his eyebrows at Della, happily watching it all with a mouth full of delicious dessert, and her phone raised pointedly at them. Had she been recording them?
No doubt being dipped felt weird to Donald still—Zé could recall how he had protested the first time Panchito had tried it on him in a moment of merriment, always afraid he was going to be dropped—but pretty soon Zé knew he had become a rare exception to that mistrust. He saw the drake smiling up at him when he was pulled back up, safe and sound, and further caught himself giggling the moment he was finally released.."You old charmer," he teased. "Absolute goofball."
Not as charming as you, the parrot thought, but said nothing. .
Looking back around the room, the two dancers noted the handful of people clapping, and the glaring eyes of a few more who felt their meal had been unjustly interrupted. Donald lifted his hat, gave a small, courteous bow alongside his partner, and grinned sheepishly.
"Maybe we should get outta here." Donald whispered without taking his eyes off the room.
"Fine by me, meu querido , just let me sign that bill for good ol' Gladstone," José chuckled as they both approached Della at the table. Unable to interrupt to thank the band properly, Donald turned and gave them a nod, too, before trotting off to find anyone who could help pack up their food to-go. Typical foodie, Zé knew he'd be damned if he was wasting a free meal. In the meantime, the malandro slid into the booth like a skater on ice, ending up right next to Della and taking her hand in a teasing gesture, as if he meant to give it a knightly kiss. "Well, minha linda dama , shall we, as you Americans, 'blow this joint'?"
"Hell yeah! Hoohooho oh Zé that was so awesome! You really know your way around the dancefloor," the excitable pilot beamed at him, seeming truly enamored by his dashing demeanor. Della finished the last of the dessert, groaning at the slight rumble in her stomach due to all the sugar loaded food she just consumed. Or perhaps her belly aching for new adventures, it was hard to tell with her. Nonetheless, she pushed her plate away and pocketed her phone, ready to leave with everyone else.
As Zé signed "Gladstone Gander" on the dotted line, he noticed too late that the alcoholic drinks were not included with the free meals. Caramba.
Well, maybe Sr Gander will win a lottery to pay off the tab or something, the green macaw thought with a wince as he subtly placed the bill under the small flower vase in the middle of the table, with a cash tip for the waiter of course. "Come on then, meus patos lindos , I'm on layover for the next two days, and I insist on visiting seus filhos before I find my bed for the night. Vamos , no time to waste!" he said, practically over his shoulder as he walked briskly towards the door.
Donald made a beeline for the exit, keys jingling in his hand in anticipation of taking off as soon as everyone was in the car. Clearly he didn't want their luck to run out on the home stretch, and seeing José sign his cousin's name made him all the more jittery. Zé hooked his arm with a wobbly Della and all but lifted her off the ground as he beat an expeditious exit from the restaurant to the car. Hopping into the backseat, he seemed all too eager now to get to their next destination as quickly as possible.
"I trust you are sober enough to drive, Donald?" he asked, trying not to giggle with the giddiness of getting away scot-free from paying for that meal.
Donald rolled his eyes, but not without smiling. "Ah, 'course I am," he swatted away the question and buckled up, looking to both his friend and his sibling. "What, I was gonna ask you two to slow down? Forget it."
José laughed heartily. Of course all of them had had their share of less responsible experiences, but he at least was well past that now, whatever Donald liked to think. He settled back serenely into the back seat as his friend started up the car and took off toward Killmotor Hill, everyone in the car still a little dazed at how smoothly everything had gone.
"Been a while since we performed without things ending in a brawl," Donald joked at length. "Think they were expecting one of us to propose or somethin' like that?"
"Yeah! It would be a cute way to propose, right?" Della remarked with a sly grin thrown to the back seat.
Zé flushed under his feathers, more so than he already was due to the alcohol, and laughed to cover any slip in composure. "Why, what a sweet notion! I have been remiss. Della, my would-be-sister, I would like permission to ask for your brother Donald's hand. I promise not to spend all his dowry irresponsibly, and to be a diligent and supportive husband and brother-in-law."
Without missing a beat, Della put on her most sophisticated accent and composure she could muster. "Why, my dear old fellow, of course! You have my blessing—I trust you with my brother's hand! But first, you mustn't trifle with me, pray tell why my most handsomest brother has caught your eye." She had her beak turned upwards, looking down on them both. Oh, she enjoyed acting regal a little too much, likely hoping to hear some silly gibberish poking fun at her brother's expense, and ready as always to chime in on the playful insults if José took the bait.
Oh, now Zé was in trouble. Did she want a list? Because he could cite a hundred things he adored about Donald off the top of his drunken head. But would he give himself away?
José Carioca, continuing his trend of only making the wisest decisions in a potentially hazardous situation, decided to throw caution to the wind and run with it.
"Oh, well minha irmã," he began, ticking off each point on his fingers, "for a start I must confess that your dear brother has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen, a grecian profile fit for the Greek gods, a mind both deviously quick-witted and profoundly empathetic, and the sweetest and most memorable of voices. He is fantastically talented with multiple instruments. He can fight bare fisted with the most dastardly of demons and come out victorious. He's good with kids and kind to animals. And his dance moves are the stuff of legends ." José leaned back in his seat and casually folded his hands behind his neck with a proud smirk on his beak.
He dared not peer at the rearview mirror for Donald's reaction. His courage would only bolster him so far.
If he had, he would have seen Donald’s knuckles go white and his face go red. He prayed Della and José were too busy riffing to look at him. He knew José was joking, but kinder words had never been said of him. Maybe he was more inebriated than he’d thought, but he could've sworn those words came right from the heart. It was hard not to be affected.
And, well, it sure seemed by the look on Della’s face that she was just as surprised as he was, being not remotely what either had been expecting to hear. She was squinting at nothing in particular, mind racing being that keen gaze, before she shook her head and laughed, the moment’s awkwardness set aside. "Most indubiously! Well then, there will be no other bird for my darling brother! José you are most respectable and—and— cool ." She seemed to give up on trying to find a fancier word as she turned to face José fully in the backseat. "I can picture it now, brother ," she teased with a wink. "The lovers marry in the beautiful Bahia."
"Okay, don’t get carried away, sis," Donald warned as his face grew even hotter. Surely she knew when to run a joke into the ground.
"Claro que sim!" Zé declared with enthusiasm and that devilishly handsome smile that had many ladies falling all over him in the past. "Only the finest wedding and honeymoon for my beau." He winked, playing along with this ridiculous game of theirs.
The extra silly tone helped push Donald from embarrassment back to laughter, one extreme probably as dangerous as the other to his driving, but certainly more bearable. "Shucks, you're makin' me blush!" he laughed, and hoped to god his good humor would be enough of a justification for his flushed cheeks. "Thanks for lookin' out for me, sis . Wouldn't want anyone else marrying me off. You clearly have a fine eye for suitors." He tried not to make that last part sound sarcastic. The last thing he wanted to do was insult Zé amidst the joking.
"Oh! Que requintado! " Zé gasped, blessedly leaving the game behind in favor of admiring the sight of Killmotor Hill looming before them as they pulled into the unnamed road that was their incredibly long, steep driveway.
In all the years he had been friends with the Caballeros, they had yet to get over the sheer vastness of Scrooge McDuck's estate. It was almost obscene how large it was, Donald knew, and it caused him no small amount of embarrassment to be associated with such excess. Even for himself, it had been confronting to look at after a decade of being away, and he didn’t doubt it was the same for the Brazilian now. So easy to forget to sheer scale of it. It was intimidating to say the least.
Donald wasn't a fan of the ostentatious nature of Scrooge's property, never had been, but hearing José respond to it so positively was gratifying at least. He wanted Zé to be happy where he was staying, and Donald himself clearly couldn't offer much. It was a long journey up, and Donald's car complained every time, but they made it without incident.
They pulled up at the entrance of the manor and got out of the car. "I can take your luggage, Zé, go right on in with Della and see if you two can't find any of the kids."
"Oh no, meu querido , I wouldn't dream of it," José politely insisted, taking his single overnight suitcase and stepping out of the car. He hooked his arm with Donald, plainly meaning to keep the duck at his side every step of the way.
Donald smiled wanly, somehow understanding him without anything needing to be said. The malandro would never admit it outloud, but having his friend near was likely as great a comfort to him as it was to himself, in a surrounding of such extravagance that it was almost alien to the poor city parrot. He couldn’t really blame him for nerves. Even he had felt it the first night he returned to these grounds to stay.
"Shall we, meu querido? " José asked with a tired smile.
"We shall." Donald confirmed with a sigh. "Absolutely."
"I can talk with Unca Scrooge tomorrow about givin' you a room in the mansion—s'probably more comfortable," Zé heard Donald mumble in front of him as he dragged his feet leading them both around the yard to the other side of the house where the pool was located. Seemed that all the excitement of the last few hours was catching up with him as pronunciation was becoming less and less of a priority. "Houseboat's nice and quiet, at least. You can take the couch or my hammock, m'sorry I don't have a real bed for ya."
"Do not worry," Zé reassured softly and stifling a yawn as they walked. "Any corner in sua casa is good enough for me. I don't require much."
The last time Zé was on the property, he had come with Panchito to "practice" for their "band" in Scrooge's garage, and the Caballeros had been allowed to stay in the guestrooms, which were huge . José had been unable to sleep alone in one of those immense beds and he had snuck into Paco's room to share without anyone ever finding out. But that had been the extent of his exploration of the premises. He had never been to the part of the house where Scrooge sometimes took his morning swim, and he wasn't sure what to expect when he first saw Donald's houseboat sitting afloat in the mansion's Olympic sized pool.
Donald looked little embarrassed, and it was clearly too late in the day to bother explaining it all to his friend, exhausted as they both were. Clearly the drake’s sensibilities aligned more with his own than he had thought if he was choosing to sleep outside in his own humble abode rather than under Scrooge's roof. Even if Scrooge appeared to be taking on the kids nowadays more than he had been in the beginning, thank God. Donald deserved some of his independence back.
They marched up the gangplank and Donald kicked the door open, flicking on a light and climbing down the stairs that led below deck to the kitchen and living space. "Minha casa é sua casa, my friend. Lemme get you some blankets. The couch is comfier than it looks." It was one of those deceptive old things that looked like a lumpy, dodgy couch, but the minute you sat down on it your energy was sapped and you never wanted to get up again.
"Que bom! It is—how do you say cômodo? " José took a long look around at the compact floor plan taking advantage of every conceivable inch, the sheer cleverness of the design. Everything a family needed to live was compartmentalized into one living space. He could even discern that there was more rooms beyond the living room/kitchen area, likely for the kids when they lived there. "So smart, I love it," Zé finished with a relaxed smile. "This estético... It vaguely reminds me of the Cabana, when it wasn't overflowing with artifacts. It feels like..."
Home.
Donald paused and waited for José to finish, but he never did. Well hell, Donald could hardly fault him for dropping a sentence after this long on his feet, after all. "I've hadda lot of chances to revise the floorplan—it's prob'ly been through just as much as the Cabana." Zé's response to Donald's hard-earned home seemed to lift his spirits if his tone was any indication. Good, he deserved to feel proud. "It does me well, though."
Zé stayed in the living room, setting his suitcase down by the couch and taking off his hat to set on the coffee table by the time Donald returned with blankets and dropped them on the couch. Sometime in the interim he had abandoned his sailor suit for a plain black shirt, clearly meant for sleeping, and Zé took that as his cue to remove his own jacket. "Bathroom's just over there, I'm not setting an alarm or anythin' for tomorrow, but feel free to make noise whenever after 6."
The minute José sat down on the couch, he found himself sinking down into cushy heaven, que rico! He let out a groan as he suddenly became acutely aware of all the aches of the workday bearing down on him all at once. Tired as he was, he still noticed when Donald had started to shuffle himself off and felt the pang of his withdrawal though he said nothing. But then the drake paused and turned back. "I'm happy to stay up and hang out, by the way, but I assume you need to sleep, huh?"
Honestly Zé could have dropped off right there sitting up, but the offered prospect of spending quality time with his dear American friend was too good to pass up. "Come, sentar-se ." He patted an empty place on the couch next to him.
Donald didn't need to be asked twice. He flopped down on the couch next to Zé. He could tell he was relieved that he didn't have to play anything up anymore. They weren't out in public, no more sister or kids to handle or worry about. And as much as Zé had also desperately appreciated Della keeping the conversation so light, dropping that suave act was something even he could appreciate in the moment. It was nice to be with someone he didn’t have to pretend to be something better than who he really was. Better than being just plain old Zé. Wouldn’t surprise him if Donald was feeling something similar right then.
"Some day, huh? Sorry if I seemed...off, at all, after pickin' you up," the duck at his side said at length.
"I could tell something was, erm, not on with you earlier," the green parrot admitted slowly, busying himself with arranging his red and blue tail feathers so they would not be crushed, affecting more ease than he felt for Donald's sake at the choice in topic. "But I supposed you would come out with it on your own, in your own time."
"Just didn't wanna make a scene at the restaurant." Donald sunk down, speaking very slowly now. "Just had a tough couple of months. The, uh, cruise..." He drifted off.
The cruise?
“What about it?” the flight attendant yawned in spite of himself. He’d been up for twenty hours at this point, maybe the sailor could forgive him that.
"Had a bit of a detour. I'm just happy you're here, right now. I haven't... talked to many people since." The drake leaned against the macaw’s shoulder with a sigh.
José felt his heart flutter at the close proximity and he began to preen the feathers at his knee to mask his reaction. "I don't what kind of cruise sua família sent you on," he murmured, matching Donald's volume, catching himself in another yawn before going on, "but clearly they were not feeding you properly. You've lost a lot of weight." This time he could not hide the concern from his voice.
"Oh, you noticed, huh."
A moment of silence.
"José, what's the loneliest you've ever felt?"
José stilled his preening, his fist turning to grip the feathers at his knees. "I..."
Ten years old. His mother crying in the other room, his uncle telling him his father and sister were in an accident. His sister lives, but his father....
Twenty-four years old. Donald had just lost Della. Couldn't talk about it. Needed to take care of the hatchlings. Losing touch. Moving back to Rio.
Twenty-nine years old, on a plane to nowhere, texting Panchito. The long distance isn't working for him. A visit to Mexico once every three or so weeks isn't enough. He needs...
Thirty-four years old. Rosinha telling him he's never going to make anything of himself because he hasn't been happy in years, not with her, not with anyone. His smiles are all lies. She needs...
Thirty-five years old. Alone on a plane, one day before he gets a text long overdue, wondering what happened to them all, how they are doing. If they miss him, even a little…
"I can't recall," he whispered, choking on the words.
Donald heard José's voice catch, and winced. "You don't hafta say..."
Instead of asking for more, he drew his knees in and curled up beside Zé, taking the liberty of making himself comfortable rather than the regular, polite contact so many people would maintain. The feeling of Donald pressing along his side sent a warmth spreading through his entire body and slowly José felt himself relax. They did not speak for many minutes, and the exhausted green macaw savored the silence and the company.
Even so, he was worried by the question Donald had posed to him, distraught for where it had come from, what had prompted it. Has Donald been lonely? Was that why he seemed more than eager to have Zé stay with him for the duration of his visit? Not that he would ever object... quite the contrary... there was nowhere else he'd rather be than right... here.
If Donald wanted him there, needed his companionship, José would be available to him... For whatever he needed... For as long as he could...
"I went a whole month without seeing another person's face." A real one, at least. "I... got lost."
When at length Donald spoke, voice quiet with confession, it didn’t bother him much when he received no answer at first. He had thought about passing off his weight loss as some kind of diet thing, but it was too obvious a lie. Donald had given Beakley and Scrooge some colorful suggestions when they observed the same thing Zé had just done, but for his best friend he could really only summon a disheartened sigh. He wanted to talk about it, but actually listing out the events... was a lot. He closed his eyes and soaked up the contact with his friend. It bolstered him.
He drew in a slow breath and continued. "I lied about the cruise. I was supposed to leave the day Della got back, but something happened..."
Still no reply save that of soft, slow breathing at his shoulder, and Donald realized after his first sentence that Zé was out, fast asleep in spite of his best efforts to stay awake. His hand, trapped between their two bodies as they sat side to side, had found its way to the very edge of his shirt without the duck's knowing, clutched absently between green fingers.
His words, his courage, were left to dissipate in the room around him.
Not that he resented it. It made sense. Poor guy deserves a rest, Donald thought to himself, cautious of further movement that might wake his friend. It should have been an uneasy note to leave the evening on, and in some ways it was—but the gentle rhythm of Zé's breath, the rise and fall of his body against Donald, put the duck at ease. It reminded him of those first days in the cabana; a home furnished for one, but housing so many more. They would regularly come home from an adventure and just fall in a heap on the nearest cushioned surface.
Slowly, gently, Donald reached behind him for one of the folded blankets he'd put out, and dragged it over the both of them. It took a long time to fall asleep, but for once that wasn't an unpleasant thing.
"Goodnight, Zé."
