Work Text:
There's the lovely aroma of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen. It makes Della's beak water, her stomach gurgling. She can't quite remember what she was doing. It's on the tip of her tongue, but she can't wrap her head around it. She was doing something, she was sure of it. She decides it doesn't matter right now.
Della makes her way to the kitchen. Her heart warms at the sight that greets her. Her three babies are in their highchairs, babbling away happily.
"Hi, kids," Della coos at them, as she kneels in front of them.
Dewey giggles at her and pats her face.
Della smiles at each of them. Their eyes are bright and tiny baby grins light up their chubby faces. This is all Della has ever wanted. Her heart sings inside her chest.
"How was work, honey?" says a deep, familiar voice that sends ice down Della's back.
For a second, she can't move, feet glued to the floor and muscles tense. Inhaling shakily, disbelieving, Della turns around as slowly as possible. She can't blink. Her breath catches, heat skipping a beat, the ice drops all the way down to her toes.
He's standing there.
Della feels her pulse stutter, she feels her entire body shake, her hands go up to cover her beak. Her eyes are dry. "You-"
Della wakes up, shooting forward in bed. She's not gasping for breath, but her heart's racing and it hurts. She takes a deep breath, shaking, swallowing painfully. She breathes in and out for a few moments, trying to calm her heartbeat.
She blinks. Her eyes are wet now. A lump rises in her throat and they overflow. She curls up, burying her face in her hands, catching her tears. They quickly fall from her eyes and keep on coming.
Then there's a knock at her door.
"Della?" Donald.
She doesn't answer. Donald comes in. Della doesn't look up from her hands. Donald comes and sits beside her. Then he places a hand on her arm. Then he's drawing her into a hug, and Della immediately clings to him like she hasn't done in years. He holds her, warm and tight, and Della loves him with all her heart.
"You're here," Donald tells her, rubbing his hand up and down her spine soothingly. "I'm right here. The kids are in their room. Everything's okay."
Della sniffles. Donald always knows exactly what to say. She exhales, leaning completely against her brother. He lays his cheek on her hair.
"Everything is okay," he tells her again, whispering gently. He kisses her head.
Della nods slowly on his chest. "The kids are in their room?" she asks quietly, just to make sure. Moms needed to make sure, always make sure.
"Snoring obnoxiously and kicking each other in their sleep," Donald responds.
Della chuckles at that. Then she sighs tiredly.
Sometimes, she wonders where he is... but she doesn't need to know.
She's finally got her babies. That's all she needs.