OOC: Fanwork
((OOC: Based upon a fanfiction idea of Magica and Scrooge pretending to get married to fool her family. The arts are by sagibunu , drabbles are by cuterabbit33 . A connecting head-canon of her lifestory pre-Scrooge is here. ))
The only sounds filling the gigantic dining room were that of clinking silverware, and chewed food. To the left side of the table were Magica's family... Granny sipping her wine contemplatively, eying Scrooge, with Poe on her shoulder offering sympathetic looks to his sister. Witch Child occasionally hummed, enjoying mushing the fancy food together to create new concoctions. Samson Hex's fork nervously tapped against the plate, too nervous from the tension to even think of eating. Rosalino was also looking at Scrooge, but his look contained more anger than curiosity, glaring daggers at the man who 'stole' his woman.
To the right side of the table were Scrooge's family. The triplets were hiding their vegetables under their napkins,exchanging glances with themselves and Webbigail, who easily enough entered into a staring contest with Witch Child (and lost.) Daisy was the only one smiling, doing her best to try and lift the spirits, often complimenting on how delicious the food was. Donald was clearly struggling to keep his beak closed, chest shaking with suppressed laughter at the entire situation.
To one of the table were Duckworth and Ms. Beakly, ready to serve more food at a moment's notice, but also looking for ways to escape this clearly awkward situation. At the other end of the table were the 'happy' couple, matched in their miserable expressions. Scrooge was doing his best to ignore the looks on him, cutting so hard into his beef that his plate began to suffer damage. Magica was swirling yet another sugar cube into her tea, do doubt by now more sugar than actual tea.
Suddenly, Granny lifted her head, arms crossed. "I've just noticed something, dearie."
Magica raised the cup to her beak. "Enlighten me."
"We've been here for an entire week... and I have yet to see you kiss your future husband."Magica spat out what little tea was in her mouth, Scrooge's knife split his plate, Rosalino dropped his utensils, Donald burst out into hysterical laughter, Daisy elbowed Donald in the ribs, and now all eyes were locked on the 'couple'. When the noise had settled, Magica and Scrooge looked at each other for the briefest of moments before returning Granny's attention.
"That's... that's..." Magica hesitated for the right words. "That's personal!"
Granny merely smirked. "Is it? I've seen Donald and Daisy do it six times these past few days, and they're only dating."
Donald promptly shut up, and Daisy rubbed her temples. Scrooge attempted to retaliate. "We're not very 'in' to public displays of affection."
"Is that so." Rosalino cut in, hands gripping the table. "If I were in your shoes, I'd never stop kissing her! If I wasn't some fiance-stealing crook, I'd kiss her right now!" He hissed. "But I'm a gentleman."
Scrooge grumbled deep in his throat, and looked to Daisy, clearly demanding some aide. She seemed to shrink in her seat a little from his intensity. "W-Well, uh... you just haven't been here long enough! Give them the right time and place, and they smooch up a storm, let me tell you." This was met with gags from the triplets, and Donald shoving bread into his mouth to keep from laughing all over again.
"I don't see anything wrong with this time and place." Granny replied, eyes never leaving her granddaughter. "Is asking for a kiss really such a difficult demand?"
"You're ruining a perfectly nice dinner." Magica glowered, standing up, chair pushed back. "All you ever do is demand things! You can't ever believe, you always need proof!" Scrooge had fallen silent at this point, in thought.
"You don't find it strange that a couple never kisses? I've barely seen you hold hands." Granny reached behind her to pat Poe's head. "Isn't that right, Poe?"
Poe was ready to molt from the eyes Magica was giving him. "Uh... w-well... that is... oh, wow, that ham looks delicious, is anyone else going to have a slice?"
"What do I have to do to convince you, and get you out of my life, you horrid woman!" Magica screeched, slamming her palms down on the table. "Do I have to throw a parade about how much I love him? Write a novel about all of our affairs? I told you I'd get married, so I'm getting married, you're never satis-"
The next instant was a blur in Magica's mind when she would recall it later on. The 'blur' was Scrooge ever so calmly getting out of his seat, and then, with all the speed of a cheetah, placing his hands on her cheeks, fingers just about in her hair, and pressing his beak to hers as deeply as possible.
Simultaneously, everyone's jaws dropped - save for Donald, who had fallen backwards onto the floor, nearly in pain due to how much he was laughing. Magica's entire face had gone redder than the wine in Granny's cup, her body unable to move, frozen in place. She didn't even appear to be breathing. Was she even aware that they had become the center of attention? Her wide eyes didn't seem to be looking at Scrooge, but off, in the distance, trying to pinpoint some place of coherent thought, like she couldn't decide what to do or think. Time had gone still for her.
Then, slowly, to the note of everyone, her eyes lost that distance, and her muscles relaxed. Her eyelashes fluttered, before settling on closing completely, accepting, or pleased, or both, accepting the strange pleasure this was bringing about in her. The color faded from her cheeks, though it was eternal in doing so. Just as quickly as it had started, it was ending, as Scrooge's hands left her face, and he pulled away from her face. Their eyes opened, and it was impossible to tell what they were 'telling' each other in those looks. Promptly, Scrooge sat back down, adjusted his spectacles, and dabbed his beak with a napkin, as if nothing had happened at all. "Duckworth, I think we're all ready for some dessert."
"... Yes, sir." He was just grateful to leave the room for a few precious seconds.
The eldest duck looked to Granny. "Satisfied?"
Granny didn't reply, but managed to close her mouth. She did, however, clear her throat, trying to get Magica's attention. As for Magica, she was still standing, eyes still transfixed, giving the impression she was half asleep. When she sat down, it was with certainly less finesse than Scrooge, loudly plopping down, nearly falling over, as if she'd been struck by lightning. Scrooge caught the entire spectacle, and couldn't help but wear a prideful little smile. He still had it.
"And that's when they're in public!"Daisy chirped.
[later on]
"What in all hells was that?!" Magica screeched at Scrooge, once they were alone in his bedroom, ready to settle for the night.
Scrooge was buttoning his nightshirt, rolling his eyes at the tantrum. "If I didn't do that, they'd never shut up."
"You couldn't have warned me?" She sat on the bed, kicking her feet to show off her displeasure.
"What couple do you know that warns the other before they kiss?" He placed his nightcap on his head, and turned to her. "If you want this charade to work, we're going to have to be a lot more..." He shuddered to say it. "...affectionate, when your family is around."
Magica groaned, clutching herself, feeling her skin crawl, and leaned on a bed post. "Disgusting... why can't they just get back on their brooms and go home!"
She began to ramble once more about how much she hated her family, and so Scrooge tuned out,used to the rant. Would it kill her to be quiet for more than two minutes? He shook his head, reminding himself that all these headaches would be worth it. Soon enough, he'd be rid of her, and would actually be able to relax for a while. He rubbed his spectacles with his fingers, in a cheap attempt to clean them. Yes, soon, he'd be able to relax, and he'd have this entire room sanitized to get rid of any sign that she was ever there, that she was ever on his bed, in his bed...
... Get rid of any sign that he ever kissed her, that he ever held her, that he ever ran his fingers through that black hair that seemed to pool over with such soft and silky tenderness that he could it for ages, that he ever pressed her delicate frame to his own body to feel her heart beat rapidly against his chest, that he ever looked into those deep eyes that never really reflected him but instead had their own cosmos of stars glittering inside to pull him in and never let go...
She flopped on the bed, sighing heavily, perhaps unaware that her thin nightgown was riding up past her long shapely legs. "Well?" She turned her head to him, some of her hair falling down her face. "What are you waiting for?"
His heart leaped into his throat - she surely didn't mean that. "What?!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Turn off the lights, I want to sleep already."
Oh. Right. Yes. Lights. Surely. That and nothing else. Dammit, she was getting to him. "Don't go around demanding things, free-loader." But the spectacles came off, the lights came off, and the ducks were soon enough both in bed, as far apart from each other as possible, as per the norm.
Once again, they had something in common - both remained wide awake, thinking over the day.
~*~
Granny DeSpell flipped a page, and, ignoring her granddaughter's protests, continued to show off the old photos of their past and homeland, with the triplets pestering with questions. Scrooge continued to check his watch, waiting for the moment he could be free and attend to his work, instead of listening to nonsense he couldn't care less about. It wasn't until Louie said the following that curiosity finally reached him.
"Say, is that Magica?" The duckling prodded one photo. "She looks so different!"
All eyes went to that photo, and it was a general agreement that there were differences between the Magica of the present, and her in the photo. Aside from years younger, the photo showed her in a brilliant red dress that appeared to be swaying off her, a fresh rose placed within her hair, her hands waving about in jubilation, and, perhaps strangest of all, looking happy not for reasons of malice or misfortune upon others. Just an actual, pure happiness for whatever she was doing. She didn't appear to be aware her photo was being taken, dancing in the crowded street, attracting the eyes of many young fellows in the background.
"Ah, yes, that's her during one of our Romanian festivals." Granny chuckled lightly, pulling the photo out of the book. "It happened to fall on her birthday that year, so we splurged and celebrated as best we could. She had quite a fetch of suitors back then!"
Present Magica had burning cheeks, arms crossed, refusing to look at the group. "Are we quite done here?"
"What are you being so bitter over?" Granny clicked her tongue. "It's a nice photo. And you should dress like this more often. All of that black is so depressing."
"No one would want to see me in that." A roll of her eyes from the sorceress.
As the argument rolled on, Scrooge kept his eyes on the photo, and found himself, as always, disagreeing with Magica.
~*~
Magica hadn't been invited to many engagement parties in her left, but she had a distinct feeling they were supposed to be a lot louder and less awkward than this one. The rented ballroom was full of friends, family, and even some news groups, that were timidly picking at the buffet, making idle chatter, but mostly staring and gossiping at her and Scrooge. She couldn't really blame them - Scrooge McDuck, richest man in the world, settling down to marriage? And to his enemy, Magica DeSpell, no less! What had been a simple plan to get rid of her annoying family had managed to snowball into a national phenomenon. Magica hated Scrooge for not giving her the dime, hated her family for that stupid wedding contract, hated Daisy for thinking of this plan...
And, right now, most of all, hated the outfit she was being forced to wear. It was an exact replica of the red dress from the photo album although changed in size to fit her age. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it was a perfect fit, and she didn't dare ask how the numbers of her body had gotten out. It looked good on her as well, giving her a slim appeal, and there was no question she looked beautiful in it. The hate was not entirely with the dress itself, but of its origins. How shocked she had looked the other day, receiving the boxed cloth, arriving straight from Romania, and signed as ordered by her 'future husband'.
There was an addition to the dress that was not in the photo, however. The red collar around her neck, holding a single silver bell, carried plenty of hate as well. She was sitting next to Scrooge at a long table covered in a white cloth, and cast a glare at him. She flicked the bell with her fingers, the noise getting his attention, stopping him in his drink of tea to look over with calm. “What is this?” a light hiss. “I feel like a pet cat.”
“It warns to me when you're getting close.” His tone was of a cruel joke, smirking, but then he shook his head, resuming his drink. “I thought it'd look nice. And you'll pay me back for all of it when this farce is over.”
“I can't afford it, and you know it.” Her hands settled in her lap. “Why would you even get me this ridiculous outfit in the first place? Do you need to humiliate me that badly?”
He placed his cup down. “Your grandmother was right.”
Now that was rare to hear. “About what?”
“You shouldn't wear black all the time.” He left it at that, his cup empty.
She went silent, and fingered the bell again. How she hated that bell, that collar, that dress. She hated that he bought it all for her. She hated that he had thought of her and that he remembered the photo. She especially, deep down, hated how happy it had made her. The bell jingled with the lump in her throat.
~*~
The overture hadn't even begun yet, so the ducks knew a long night was ahead of them. Scrooge irritably tapped an arm rest, glancing over at his 'future wife'. "When, exactly, is your grandmother going to stop insisting on these bonding moments?"
Magica didn't even look at him, eyes ahead, bills rubbing together in a frustrated grind. "I don't like this anymore than you do."
The third in the row, however, was not as agitated, as the goose rubbed his hands together in excitement. "Isn't this exciting, Magica? When was the last time we got to see a play together?"
"If I recall correctly, never." Magica leaned back into her seat, sighing. She would preferred sitting next to anyone - blabbermouth Daisy, annoying Donald, busybody Granny, ANYBODY, but, no, there was Rosalino, gazing at her in a sickening wave of love while making several attempts to touch her hand.
These attempts did not go unnoticed by Scrooge, raising an eyebrow at the other male. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and hold a married woman's hand."
Rosalino now looked at the elder, love turning into hate. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and steal a fiance. I still haven't forgiven you, and I never will."
"My heart breaks." Scrooge rolled his eyes. They both went on to ignore the woman's groans.
"I'd be surprised if you had a heart, underneath all that ice and money!" The goose hissed, crossing his arms in indignation. "What do you have that I can't give her?"
"Money."
"Besides that."
"Power."
"Besides that."
"Respect for her personal space."
"Besi - hey!"
Magica straightened up for a moment to see if the other families were nearby. Why was she suffering alone? Rosalino was relentless, continuing on despite the fact the orchestra had begun playing the overture. "I've known her forever! I understand her better than anyone! You just want her for her beauty!"
Scrooge, at least, had managed to lower his voice, so he wouldn't shout over the music. "And yet, despite all that, I'm the one she's marrying."
"Just admit." Rosalino narrowed his eyes, and pointed an accusatory finger at his enemy. "You've got a hold on her, don't you? Blackmail, threats, you're forcing her to do this! A man like you treats women like another dollar!"
Scrooge didn't reply so easily this time. Not out of lack of answers, but the sheer idea that he did not treat women well - he, who loved his mother, who loved his sisters, who had all but adopted Webbigail, who always lifted a finger to aide Daisy - was something he would not take lying down. The duck and goose almost appeared to enter a staring contest of anger, and then, the richer one cleared his throat. "Magica?"
"What now." A bitter snap.
His arm extended out and around her shoulders, and suddenly, she was pushed in close, her head on his shoulder. Keeping her pinned there with his elbow, he began running his fingers through her hair, being careful not to create any knots. "Is that more comfortable for you, darling?"
Two birds went a bright red. Magica, her cheeks with embarrassment, mouth agape in sheer shock. Rosalino, his entire face, a fury that was struggling to be capped. Scrooge happily smirked at his opponent, before returning his false attentions to his bride, using his free hand to take one of hers, and run a thumb over the top of it. As for Magica herself, her voice was a desperate whisper. "Scrooge, what do you think you're doing!"
"Just enjoying myself." He held up her hand to kiss the knuckles, and then was back to addressing Rosalino. "She does like it when you touch her hair, right? You are the expert and all, having spent, what did you say, 'forever' with her?"
"Scrooge!" Magica squirmed, but he wasn't letting her go anytime soon.
"What? It's an innocent question." McDuck desired a camera, just to catch Rosalino's expression, perhaps make a game out of all the veins that were popping. "And maybe I could ask him for advice about you, since you two used to be fond of one another. Or was that just him?"
"Leave me out of your idiotic jealous fists, you miserable old miser!" Was she shaking? She was definitely shaking, fully aware that several of the playgoers were ignoring the stage, preferring the performance going on within those three seats instead.
"For example!" Scrooge let go of her hand, stopping the hair action to support her back, and tilted her beak up with his fingers. "Perhaps you can tell me, Rosalino, my good man, exactly what way our darling Magica prefers being kissed?"
The straw broke on the camel's back, and Rosalino stood up in his seat, roaring, throwing off his hat, and reaching for his magic wand - and, with a single THWACK from Granny's purse - what do you know, the rest of the families just so happened to be right behind the trio - he was down and out, a knocked out mess on the floor. Seconds of awkward silence followed, as others turned back or forward in their seats to watch the play that had begun minutes earlier. Scrooge released his hold on Magica, allowing his hands to relax in his lap, wearing a grin of victory. Magica sunk into her seat, upset that there was no rock to hider under. "You enjoyed that far too much." she murmured after a moment.
He put a finger to his beak. "Shhh. I can't hear."
~*~
It was around noon, and thus Ducksworth was in the dining room, ready to help serve the people of the mansion. As he entered, he notice Scrooge had already sat down, and was jotting down notes on a small piece of paper. The butler cleared his throat to make his presence known. “Tax season again, sir?”
The duck shook his head, looking up for only the briefest of moments. “Just experimenting with something.” Tapping the pencil to his beak, he decided it was safe enough to share his findings. “You know the belled collar I got Magica for the engagement party?”
“Of course.” the butler walked over to be next to McDuck. “She wears it constantly now.”
Scrooge's beak twitched, suppressing a smile that fact brought. “I know... but I've noticed something. This is just a guess, but I think any time she's pleased by something, she fiddles with that bell.”
The dog raised his eyebrows, a bit intrigued. “What makes you say that?”
“Little things.” The pencil now tapped the paper. “For example, let's see... ah, yes. When Rosalino got her that bracelet, the one with the emeralds, she played with the bell, and we all know how much that witch loves jewelry. Then she did it again when she got that letter Madam Mim, her best friend. Then, today, when Daisy was asking what color the wedding invitations should be, she touched the bell when Daisy suggested red. And I told the chefs to remake the lobster salad from the party, because I saw she had three servings of it, and will definitely ring when she has it for lunch today.” Scrooge looked up, a little proud of his accomplishment. “So what does that tell you?”
Ducksworth bit his tongue, wondering if he dared really comment. “...To be frank, sir? That tells me you pay rather... close attention to the likes and dislikes of Miss DeSpell.”
The smile vanished from the duck's bill, eyes wide and a hint of red on his cheeks. He slammed the pencil onto the table, cheery voice now a grating growl. “Don't you have lunch to serve!”
“Of course, sir.” Off he went to the kitchen, hoping his pay wasn't cut for pointing out the obvious.
Scrooge began to cross out what he written, hiding his embarrassment, and mentally remarking on the foolishness of his servant. It had been harmless observation, that was all! Moving to erase his frustration, he stopped when the woman herself strutted in, wearing the collar, and sat down a few seats away from him. True to form, she crossed her arms, already impatient. “Well, where is it?”
“Professional meals take longer than boiling noodles over a cauldron.” He quipped, relaxing, and watching the doors to the kitchen carefully. Mere minutes later, Ducksworth had returned, and placed a bowl of lobster salad in front of each duck, and then went about fetching glasses of water for them.
Magica idly poked the leaves, huffing. “Can't your chefs make anything original? Didn't we already have this?”
“Either eat it, or your next meal will be ice cubes.” But his tone wasn't bitter, stirring his fork in his bowl as he kept his eyes on the collar. If she rung it, his theory would be correct.
The sorceress made a 'hmph' noise, before eating. A few bites into it, she paused to take a drink, and one hand pushed some hair back, stroked her neck... and then touched the bell, echoing a small 'ding ding' noise.
Triumphant, Scrooge pointed a fork at her in his victory. “I knew it!”
Glass half empty, Magica placed it down, staring at the accuser. “What?”
“You ring that bell every time you're happy about something!” He gestured to her neck with her utensil, grinning and absolutely ignoring Ducksworth knowing look from the corner.
The woman took a quick look at her arm, and then was quicker to remove it. “Don't be stupid, it was a nervous habit.” She didn't even appear to notice she had been doing it in the first place.
“You're like a little girl.” There was sneer with that, leaning back in his seat. “Just admit you do it.”
“I will do no such thing.” Her arms were crossed once more, the meal ignored. “Because I don't do any such thing!”
“He has a list.” Ducksworth was at the table again, grabbing the slip of paper before Scrooge could make a jump for it, ignoring the yell of his name from the writer. He handed it over to the surprised sorceress, and much to Scrooge's chagrin, she could read it despite the crossed out lines. When she was finished, she crumpled it in her hands, throwing it behind her, which the butler went to go clean up, and use an excuse to exit the room.
She was on her feet, agitated, tapping her foot on the floor. “Do you have nothing better to do than study my neck?”
“How am I supposed to ignore that constant ringing?” He jabbed a fork into his food, preparing himself for the fight that was about to ensue. “Why don't you ever take it off!”
“If you hate it so much, you shouldn't have bought it in the first place!”
“Maybe I shouldn't have!”
“Then don't buy me anything ever again!”
“As if I would ever waste my money on someone like you!”
They spat back and forth at each other, loathing increasing with each lobby, until Magica stabbed her salad with a fork, and menacingly jabbed it at him, threatening to shove the implement and the leaf attached to it in a place where the sun didn't shine -
Until the door to the living room was knocked, followed by the cheery voice of Magica's grandmother - “Hello, sweetie!” - and without waiting for the all clear, opened the door anyway, gazing upon the frozen scene of her granddaughter holding a fork of food to the supposed fiance. Silence followed, as Granny adjusted her glasses, making sure she was seeing correctly. 'Husband' and 'wife' took their time looking at each other, wondering how to fix the mistake, and keep playing the game. Granny spoke, skepticism clear. “I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?”
Gears whirled in Magica's mind, and, shaking a bit, she placed her empty hand on Scrooge's shoulder. “Not at all, Granny! We were just enjoying lunch.” Continuing to use a voice laced with a mix of sappy sweetness and acidic adjectives, she waved the fork to the man's mouth. “Say 'ah', Scroogie darling.”
Wishing he could say a few words that weren't for ladies ears, he complied, allowing the fork to enter past his lips, and quietly chewed the greenery as Magica sat back down, wiping the utensil with a napkin. She spoke again once she deemed it clean enough. “What brings you by this hour, Granny, without a call or a single word of warning?”
Not believing the act for a second, the old woman strode up to his granddaughter, hands behind her back. “I just wanted to ask about the music that would be played at the wedding.”
“A church organ is all we need.” Scrooge replied, once he had swallowed the force food.
The relative scooted next to Magica, blond hair falling past her glasses. “Haven't you thought about it? Music can set an entirely new theme for a wedding! How about a choir of-”
“No.” Said the couple in unison, trying to get back to eating.
“Then how about the jazz styling of - ”
“No.”
“We could always spring for country-”
“No.”
“Not even a classical waltz theme?”
“No.” But this time, after the duo had said it, there was a faint 'ding ding' followed. Magica went perfectly still upon realizing what she had done, and her face flushed deeper than the lobster's shell as she felt Scrooge's smirk boring into her from the back of her head. She was on her feet fast enough to knock her chair backwards, grabbing her bowl and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Granny stared where the chair once was, puzzled at what had just taken place. “What on earth was that about?”
Scrooge held up his glass of water, taking a steady sip. “Why, I haven't the faintest idea.” He waited until Granny had left to chase after her granddaughter to admire his smug appearance in the reflective glass. Of course he had been right, his theories always were. Why, he had even more examples of her doing that action that he hadn't written down.
When Daisy showed the witch family the McDuck photo album, and displayed the one of him in his younger Klondike days, ding ding.
When he had asked her to dance, during the engagement party, ding ding.
When he and Rosalino were arguing who really did know Magica better, ding ding.
When they had to fake kiss again in front of the family, along with some new reporters, ding ding.
His confident expression faded, as each new recollection began to create a startling theory in his mind that was wholly unwelcome.
The only sounds filling the gigantic dining room were that of clinking silverware, and chewed food. To the left side of the table were Magica's family... Granny sipping her wine contemplatively, eying Scrooge, with Poe on her shoulder offering sympathetic looks to his sister. Witch Child occasionally hummed, enjoying mushing the fancy food together to create new concoctions. Samson Hex's fork nervously tapped against the plate, too nervous from the tension to even think of eating. Rosalino was also looking at Scrooge, but his look contained more anger than curiosity, glaring daggers at the man who 'stole' his woman.
To the right side of the table were Scrooge's family. The triplets were hiding their vegetables under their napkins,exchanging glances with themselves and Webbigail, who easily enough entered into a staring contest with Witch Child (and lost.) Daisy was the only one smiling, doing her best to try and lift the spirits, often complimenting on how delicious the food was. Donald was clearly struggling to keep his beak closed, chest shaking with suppressed laughter at the entire situation.
To one of the table were Duckworth and Ms. Beakly, ready to serve more food at a moment's notice, but also looking for ways to escape this clearly awkward situation. At the other end of the table were the 'happy' couple, matched in their miserable expressions. Scrooge was doing his best to ignore the looks on him, cutting so hard into his beef that his plate began to suffer damage. Magica was swirling yet another sugar cube into her tea, do doubt by now more sugar than actual tea.
Suddenly, Granny lifted her head, arms crossed. "I've just noticed something, dearie."
Magica raised the cup to her beak. "Enlighten me."
"We've been here for an entire week... and I have yet to see you kiss your future husband."Magica spat out what little tea was in her mouth, Scrooge's knife split his plate, Rosalino dropped his utensils, Donald burst out into hysterical laughter, Daisy elbowed Donald in the ribs, and now all eyes were locked on the 'couple'. When the noise had settled, Magica and Scrooge looked at each other for the briefest of moments before returning Granny's attention.
"That's... that's..." Magica hesitated for the right words. "That's personal!"
Granny merely smirked. "Is it? I've seen Donald and Daisy do it six times these past few days, and they're only dating."
Donald promptly shut up, and Daisy rubbed her temples. Scrooge attempted to retaliate. "We're not very 'in' to public displays of affection."
"Is that so." Rosalino cut in, hands gripping the table. "If I were in your shoes, I'd never stop kissing her! If I wasn't some fiance-stealing crook, I'd kiss her right now!" He hissed. "But I'm a gentleman."
Scrooge grumbled deep in his throat, and looked to Daisy, clearly demanding some aide. She seemed to shrink in her seat a little from his intensity. "W-Well, uh... you just haven't been here long enough! Give them the right time and place, and they smooch up a storm, let me tell you." This was met with gags from the triplets, and Donald shoving bread into his mouth to keep from laughing all over again.
"I don't see anything wrong with this time and place." Granny replied, eyes never leaving her granddaughter. "Is asking for a kiss really such a difficult demand?"
"You're ruining a perfectly nice dinner." Magica glowered, standing up, chair pushed back. "All you ever do is demand things! You can't ever believe, you always need proof!" Scrooge had fallen silent at this point, in thought.
"You don't find it strange that a couple never kisses? I've barely seen you hold hands." Granny reached behind her to pat Poe's head. "Isn't that right, Poe?"
Poe was ready to molt from the eyes Magica was giving him. "Uh... w-well... that is... oh, wow, that ham looks delicious, is anyone else going to have a slice?"
"What do I have to do to convince you, and get you out of my life, you horrid woman!" Magica screeched, slamming her palms down on the table. "Do I have to throw a parade about how much I love him? Write a novel about all of our affairs? I told you I'd get married, so I'm getting married, you're never satis-"
The next instant was a blur in Magica's mind when she would recall it later on. The 'blur' was Scrooge ever so calmly getting out of his seat, and then, with all the speed of a cheetah, placing his hands on her cheeks, fingers just about in her hair, and pressing his beak to hers as deeply as possible.
Simultaneously, everyone's jaws dropped - save for Donald, who had fallen backwards onto the floor, nearly in pain due to how much he was laughing. Magica's entire face had gone redder than the wine in Granny's cup, her body unable to move, frozen in place. She didn't even appear to be breathing. Was she even aware that they had become the center of attention? Her wide eyes didn't seem to be looking at Scrooge, but off, in the distance, trying to pinpoint some place of coherent thought, like she couldn't decide what to do or think. Time had gone still for her.
Then, slowly, to the note of everyone, her eyes lost that distance, and her muscles relaxed. Her eyelashes fluttered, before settling on closing completely, accepting, or pleased, or both, accepting the strange pleasure this was bringing about in her. The color faded from her cheeks, though it was eternal in doing so. Just as quickly as it had started, it was ending, as Scrooge's hands left her face, and he pulled away from her face. Their eyes opened, and it was impossible to tell what they were 'telling' each other in those looks. Promptly, Scrooge sat back down, adjusted his spectacles, and dabbed his beak with a napkin, as if nothing had happened at all. "Duckworth, I think we're all ready for some dessert."
"... Yes, sir." He was just grateful to leave the room for a few precious seconds.
The eldest duck looked to Granny. "Satisfied?"
Granny didn't reply, but managed to close her mouth. She did, however, clear her throat, trying to get Magica's attention. As for Magica, she was still standing, eyes still transfixed, giving the impression she was half asleep. When she sat down, it was with certainly less finesse than Scrooge, loudly plopping down, nearly falling over, as if she'd been struck by lightning. Scrooge caught the entire spectacle, and couldn't help but wear a prideful little smile. He still had it.
"And that's when they're in public!"Daisy chirped.
[later on]
"What in all hells was that?!" Magica screeched at Scrooge, once they were alone in his bedroom, ready to settle for the night.
Scrooge was buttoning his nightshirt, rolling his eyes at the tantrum. "If I didn't do that, they'd never shut up."
"You couldn't have warned me?" She sat on the bed, kicking her feet to show off her displeasure.
"What couple do you know that warns the other before they kiss?" He placed his nightcap on his head, and turned to her. "If you want this charade to work, we're going to have to be a lot more..." He shuddered to say it. "...affectionate, when your family is around."
Magica groaned, clutching herself, feeling her skin crawl, and leaned on a bed post. "Disgusting... why can't they just get back on their brooms and go home!"
She began to ramble once more about how much she hated her family, and so Scrooge tuned out,used to the rant. Would it kill her to be quiet for more than two minutes? He shook his head, reminding himself that all these headaches would be worth it. Soon enough, he'd be rid of her, and would actually be able to relax for a while. He rubbed his spectacles with his fingers, in a cheap attempt to clean them. Yes, soon, he'd be able to relax, and he'd have this entire room sanitized to get rid of any sign that she was ever there, that she was ever on his bed, in his bed...
... Get rid of any sign that he ever kissed her, that he ever held her, that he ever ran his fingers through that black hair that seemed to pool over with such soft and silky tenderness that he could it for ages, that he ever pressed her delicate frame to his own body to feel her heart beat rapidly against his chest, that he ever looked into those deep eyes that never really reflected him but instead had their own cosmos of stars glittering inside to pull him in and never let go...
She flopped on the bed, sighing heavily, perhaps unaware that her thin nightgown was riding up past her long shapely legs. "Well?" She turned her head to him, some of her hair falling down her face. "What are you waiting for?"
His heart leaped into his throat - she surely didn't mean that. "What?!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Turn off the lights, I want to sleep already."
Oh. Right. Yes. Lights. Surely. That and nothing else. Dammit, she was getting to him. "Don't go around demanding things, free-loader." But the spectacles came off, the lights came off, and the ducks were soon enough both in bed, as far apart from each other as possible, as per the norm.
Once again, they had something in common - both remained wide awake, thinking over the day.
~*~
Granny DeSpell flipped a page, and, ignoring her granddaughter's protests, continued to show off the old photos of their past and homeland, with the triplets pestering with questions. Scrooge continued to check his watch, waiting for the moment he could be free and attend to his work, instead of listening to nonsense he couldn't care less about. It wasn't until Louie said the following that curiosity finally reached him.
"Say, is that Magica?" The duckling prodded one photo. "She looks so different!"
All eyes went to that photo, and it was a general agreement that there were differences between the Magica of the present, and her in the photo. Aside from years younger, the photo showed her in a brilliant red dress that appeared to be swaying off her, a fresh rose placed within her hair, her hands waving about in jubilation, and, perhaps strangest of all, looking happy not for reasons of malice or misfortune upon others. Just an actual, pure happiness for whatever she was doing. She didn't appear to be aware her photo was being taken, dancing in the crowded street, attracting the eyes of many young fellows in the background.
"Ah, yes, that's her during one of our Romanian festivals." Granny chuckled lightly, pulling the photo out of the book. "It happened to fall on her birthday that year, so we splurged and celebrated as best we could. She had quite a fetch of suitors back then!"
Present Magica had burning cheeks, arms crossed, refusing to look at the group. "Are we quite done here?"
"What are you being so bitter over?" Granny clicked her tongue. "It's a nice photo. And you should dress like this more often. All of that black is so depressing."
"No one would want to see me in that." A roll of her eyes from the sorceress.
As the argument rolled on, Scrooge kept his eyes on the photo, and found himself, as always, disagreeing with Magica.
~*~
Magica hadn't been invited to many engagement parties in her left, but she had a distinct feeling they were supposed to be a lot louder and less awkward than this one. The rented ballroom was full of friends, family, and even some news groups, that were timidly picking at the buffet, making idle chatter, but mostly staring and gossiping at her and Scrooge. She couldn't really blame them - Scrooge McDuck, richest man in the world, settling down to marriage? And to his enemy, Magica DeSpell, no less! What had been a simple plan to get rid of her annoying family had managed to snowball into a national phenomenon. Magica hated Scrooge for not giving her the dime, hated her family for that stupid wedding contract, hated Daisy for thinking of this plan...
And, right now, most of all, hated the outfit she was being forced to wear. It was an exact replica of the red dress from the photo album although changed in size to fit her age. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it was a perfect fit, and she didn't dare ask how the numbers of her body had gotten out. It looked good on her as well, giving her a slim appeal, and there was no question she looked beautiful in it. The hate was not entirely with the dress itself, but of its origins. How shocked she had looked the other day, receiving the boxed cloth, arriving straight from Romania, and signed as ordered by her 'future husband'.
There was an addition to the dress that was not in the photo, however. The red collar around her neck, holding a single silver bell, carried plenty of hate as well. She was sitting next to Scrooge at a long table covered in a white cloth, and cast a glare at him. She flicked the bell with her fingers, the noise getting his attention, stopping him in his drink of tea to look over with calm. “What is this?” a light hiss. “I feel like a pet cat.”
“It warns to me when you're getting close.” His tone was of a cruel joke, smirking, but then he shook his head, resuming his drink. “I thought it'd look nice. And you'll pay me back for all of it when this farce is over.”
“I can't afford it, and you know it.” Her hands settled in her lap. “Why would you even get me this ridiculous outfit in the first place? Do you need to humiliate me that badly?”
He placed his cup down. “Your grandmother was right.”
Now that was rare to hear. “About what?”
“You shouldn't wear black all the time.” He left it at that, his cup empty.
She went silent, and fingered the bell again. How she hated that bell, that collar, that dress. She hated that he bought it all for her. She hated that he had thought of her and that he remembered the photo. She especially, deep down, hated how happy it had made her. The bell jingled with the lump in her throat.
~*~
The overture hadn't even begun yet, so the ducks knew a long night was ahead of them. Scrooge irritably tapped an arm rest, glancing over at his 'future wife'. "When, exactly, is your grandmother going to stop insisting on these bonding moments?"
Magica didn't even look at him, eyes ahead, bills rubbing together in a frustrated grind. "I don't like this anymore than you do."
The third in the row, however, was not as agitated, as the goose rubbed his hands together in excitement. "Isn't this exciting, Magica? When was the last time we got to see a play together?"
"If I recall correctly, never." Magica leaned back into her seat, sighing. She would preferred sitting next to anyone - blabbermouth Daisy, annoying Donald, busybody Granny, ANYBODY, but, no, there was Rosalino, gazing at her in a sickening wave of love while making several attempts to touch her hand.
These attempts did not go unnoticed by Scrooge, raising an eyebrow at the other male. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and hold a married woman's hand."
Rosalino now looked at the elder, love turning into hate. "Rather unlike a gentleman to try and steal a fiance. I still haven't forgiven you, and I never will."
"My heart breaks." Scrooge rolled his eyes. They both went on to ignore the woman's groans.
"I'd be surprised if you had a heart, underneath all that ice and money!" The goose hissed, crossing his arms in indignation. "What do you have that I can't give her?"
"Money."
"Besides that."
"Power."
"Besides that."
"Respect for her personal space."
"Besi - hey!"
Magica straightened up for a moment to see if the other families were nearby. Why was she suffering alone? Rosalino was relentless, continuing on despite the fact the orchestra had begun playing the overture. "I've known her forever! I understand her better than anyone! You just want her for her beauty!"
Scrooge, at least, had managed to lower his voice, so he wouldn't shout over the music. "And yet, despite all that, I'm the one she's marrying."
"Just admit." Rosalino narrowed his eyes, and pointed an accusatory finger at his enemy. "You've got a hold on her, don't you? Blackmail, threats, you're forcing her to do this! A man like you treats women like another dollar!"
Scrooge didn't reply so easily this time. Not out of lack of answers, but the sheer idea that he did not treat women well - he, who loved his mother, who loved his sisters, who had all but adopted Webbigail, who always lifted a finger to aide Daisy - was something he would not take lying down. The duck and goose almost appeared to enter a staring contest of anger, and then, the richer one cleared his throat. "Magica?"
"What now." A bitter snap.
His arm extended out and around her shoulders, and suddenly, she was pushed in close, her head on his shoulder. Keeping her pinned there with his elbow, he began running his fingers through her hair, being careful not to create any knots. "Is that more comfortable for you, darling?"
Two birds went a bright red. Magica, her cheeks with embarrassment, mouth agape in sheer shock. Rosalino, his entire face, a fury that was struggling to be capped. Scrooge happily smirked at his opponent, before returning his false attentions to his bride, using his free hand to take one of hers, and run a thumb over the top of it. As for Magica herself, her voice was a desperate whisper. "Scrooge, what do you think you're doing!"
"Just enjoying myself." He held up her hand to kiss the knuckles, and then was back to addressing Rosalino. "She does like it when you touch her hair, right? You are the expert and all, having spent, what did you say, 'forever' with her?"
"Scrooge!" Magica squirmed, but he wasn't letting her go anytime soon.
"What? It's an innocent question." McDuck desired a camera, just to catch Rosalino's expression, perhaps make a game out of all the veins that were popping. "And maybe I could ask him for advice about you, since you two used to be fond of one another. Or was that just him?"
"Leave me out of your idiotic jealous fists, you miserable old miser!" Was she shaking? She was definitely shaking, fully aware that several of the playgoers were ignoring the stage, preferring the performance going on within those three seats instead.
"For example!" Scrooge let go of her hand, stopping the hair action to support her back, and tilted her beak up with his fingers. "Perhaps you can tell me, Rosalino, my good man, exactly what way our darling Magica prefers being kissed?"
The straw broke on the camel's back, and Rosalino stood up in his seat, roaring, throwing off his hat, and reaching for his magic wand - and, with a single THWACK from Granny's purse - what do you know, the rest of the families just so happened to be right behind the trio - he was down and out, a knocked out mess on the floor. Seconds of awkward silence followed, as others turned back or forward in their seats to watch the play that had begun minutes earlier. Scrooge released his hold on Magica, allowing his hands to relax in his lap, wearing a grin of victory. Magica sunk into her seat, upset that there was no rock to hider under. "You enjoyed that far too much." she murmured after a moment.
He put a finger to his beak. "Shhh. I can't hear."
~*~
It was around noon, and thus Ducksworth was in the dining room, ready to help serve the people of the mansion. As he entered, he notice Scrooge had already sat down, and was jotting down notes on a small piece of paper. The butler cleared his throat to make his presence known. “Tax season again, sir?”
The duck shook his head, looking up for only the briefest of moments. “Just experimenting with something.” Tapping the pencil to his beak, he decided it was safe enough to share his findings. “You know the belled collar I got Magica for the engagement party?”
“Of course.” the butler walked over to be next to McDuck. “She wears it constantly now.”
Scrooge's beak twitched, suppressing a smile that fact brought. “I know... but I've noticed something. This is just a guess, but I think any time she's pleased by something, she fiddles with that bell.”
The dog raised his eyebrows, a bit intrigued. “What makes you say that?”
“Little things.” The pencil now tapped the paper. “For example, let's see... ah, yes. When Rosalino got her that bracelet, the one with the emeralds, she played with the bell, and we all know how much that witch loves jewelry. Then she did it again when she got that letter Madam Mim, her best friend. Then, today, when Daisy was asking what color the wedding invitations should be, she touched the bell when Daisy suggested red. And I told the chefs to remake the lobster salad from the party, because I saw she had three servings of it, and will definitely ring when she has it for lunch today.” Scrooge looked up, a little proud of his accomplishment. “So what does that tell you?”
Ducksworth bit his tongue, wondering if he dared really comment. “...To be frank, sir? That tells me you pay rather... close attention to the likes and dislikes of Miss DeSpell.”
The smile vanished from the duck's bill, eyes wide and a hint of red on his cheeks. He slammed the pencil onto the table, cheery voice now a grating growl. “Don't you have lunch to serve!”
“Of course, sir.” Off he went to the kitchen, hoping his pay wasn't cut for pointing out the obvious.
Scrooge began to cross out what he written, hiding his embarrassment, and mentally remarking on the foolishness of his servant. It had been harmless observation, that was all! Moving to erase his frustration, he stopped when the woman herself strutted in, wearing the collar, and sat down a few seats away from him. True to form, she crossed her arms, already impatient. “Well, where is it?”
“Professional meals take longer than boiling noodles over a cauldron.” He quipped, relaxing, and watching the doors to the kitchen carefully. Mere minutes later, Ducksworth had returned, and placed a bowl of lobster salad in front of each duck, and then went about fetching glasses of water for them.
Magica idly poked the leaves, huffing. “Can't your chefs make anything original? Didn't we already have this?”
“Either eat it, or your next meal will be ice cubes.” But his tone wasn't bitter, stirring his fork in his bowl as he kept his eyes on the collar. If she rung it, his theory would be correct.
The sorceress made a 'hmph' noise, before eating. A few bites into it, she paused to take a drink, and one hand pushed some hair back, stroked her neck... and then touched the bell, echoing a small 'ding ding' noise.
Triumphant, Scrooge pointed a fork at her in his victory. “I knew it!”
Glass half empty, Magica placed it down, staring at the accuser. “What?”
“You ring that bell every time you're happy about something!” He gestured to her neck with her utensil, grinning and absolutely ignoring Ducksworth knowing look from the corner.
The woman took a quick look at her arm, and then was quicker to remove it. “Don't be stupid, it was a nervous habit.” She didn't even appear to notice she had been doing it in the first place.
“You're like a little girl.” There was sneer with that, leaning back in his seat. “Just admit you do it.”
“I will do no such thing.” Her arms were crossed once more, the meal ignored. “Because I don't do any such thing!”
“He has a list.” Ducksworth was at the table again, grabbing the slip of paper before Scrooge could make a jump for it, ignoring the yell of his name from the writer. He handed it over to the surprised sorceress, and much to Scrooge's chagrin, she could read it despite the crossed out lines. When she was finished, she crumpled it in her hands, throwing it behind her, which the butler went to go clean up, and use an excuse to exit the room.
She was on her feet, agitated, tapping her foot on the floor. “Do you have nothing better to do than study my neck?”
“How am I supposed to ignore that constant ringing?” He jabbed a fork into his food, preparing himself for the fight that was about to ensue. “Why don't you ever take it off!”
“If you hate it so much, you shouldn't have bought it in the first place!”
“Maybe I shouldn't have!”
“Then don't buy me anything ever again!”
“As if I would ever waste my money on someone like you!”
They spat back and forth at each other, loathing increasing with each lobby, until Magica stabbed her salad with a fork, and menacingly jabbed it at him, threatening to shove the implement and the leaf attached to it in a place where the sun didn't shine -
Until the door to the living room was knocked, followed by the cheery voice of Magica's grandmother - “Hello, sweetie!” - and without waiting for the all clear, opened the door anyway, gazing upon the frozen scene of her granddaughter holding a fork of food to the supposed fiance. Silence followed, as Granny adjusted her glasses, making sure she was seeing correctly. 'Husband' and 'wife' took their time looking at each other, wondering how to fix the mistake, and keep playing the game. Granny spoke, skepticism clear. “I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?”
Gears whirled in Magica's mind, and, shaking a bit, she placed her empty hand on Scrooge's shoulder. “Not at all, Granny! We were just enjoying lunch.” Continuing to use a voice laced with a mix of sappy sweetness and acidic adjectives, she waved the fork to the man's mouth. “Say 'ah', Scroogie darling.”
Wishing he could say a few words that weren't for ladies ears, he complied, allowing the fork to enter past his lips, and quietly chewed the greenery as Magica sat back down, wiping the utensil with a napkin. She spoke again once she deemed it clean enough. “What brings you by this hour, Granny, without a call or a single word of warning?”
Not believing the act for a second, the old woman strode up to his granddaughter, hands behind her back. “I just wanted to ask about the music that would be played at the wedding.”
“A church organ is all we need.” Scrooge replied, once he had swallowed the force food.
The relative scooted next to Magica, blond hair falling past her glasses. “Haven't you thought about it? Music can set an entirely new theme for a wedding! How about a choir of-”
“No.” Said the couple in unison, trying to get back to eating.
“Then how about the jazz styling of - ”
“No.”
“We could always spring for country-”
“No.”
“Not even a classical waltz theme?”
“No.” But this time, after the duo had said it, there was a faint 'ding ding' followed. Magica went perfectly still upon realizing what she had done, and her face flushed deeper than the lobster's shell as she felt Scrooge's smirk boring into her from the back of her head. She was on her feet fast enough to knock her chair backwards, grabbing her bowl and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Granny stared where the chair once was, puzzled at what had just taken place. “What on earth was that about?”
Scrooge held up his glass of water, taking a steady sip. “Why, I haven't the faintest idea.” He waited until Granny had left to chase after her granddaughter to admire his smug appearance in the reflective glass. Of course he had been right, his theories always were. Why, he had even more examples of her doing that action that he hadn't written down.
When Daisy showed the witch family the McDuck photo album, and displayed the one of him in his younger Klondike days, ding ding.
When he had asked her to dance, during the engagement party, ding ding.
When he and Rosalino were arguing who really did know Magica better, ding ding.
When they had to fake kiss again in front of the family, along with some new reporters, ding ding.
His confident expression faded, as each new recollection began to create a startling theory in his mind that was wholly unwelcome.